« 


JUST  PUBLISHED. 


THE    ADVENTURES 

OF 

I 

CALEB     WILLIAMS. 

BY 
WILLIAM   GODWIN. 

8vo,  paper,  price  5O  cents. 


Readers  of  "  LADY  BYRON  VINDICATED  "  will  be  interested 
in  this  famous  novel,  to  which  reference  is  frequently  made  by 
Mrs.  Stowe.  [See  pages  243,  343,  and  364,  of  the  present 
volume.] 

*#*  Sent,  postpaid,  on  receipt  of  price  by  the  Publishers, 

FIELDS,  OSGOOD,  &  CO.,  Boston, 


LADY  BYRON  VINDICATED 


A   HISTORY 


The  Byron  Controversy, 


FROM   ITS   BEGINNING   IN  1816  TO  THE   PRESENT   TIME. 


HARRIET  BEECHER   STOWE. 


BOSTON  : 

FIELDS,    OSGOOD,    &    CO. 
1870. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1870,  by 

FIELDS,  OSGOOD,  &  CO., 
In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


Add  to  Mb. 
GIFT 


57 
1070 


CONTENTS. 


PART  I. 

CHAPTER    I. 


INTRODUCTION 


CHAPTER    II. 
THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON 


CHAPTER    III. 

RESUME  PF  THE  CONSPIRACY 77 

CHAPTER    IV. 
RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON'S  DEATH       ....«•      87 

CHAPTER   V. 
THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON'S  GRAVK «S3 

* 

PART  II. 

CHAPTER   I. 
"LADY  BYRON  AS  I  KNEW  HER a01 


CHAPTER    II. 
LADY  BYRON'S  STORY  AS  TOLD  MB     . 


828 


6  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   III. 
CHRONOLOGICAL  SUMMARY  OF  EVENTS        ......    258 

CHAPTER    IV.  * 

THE  CHARACTER  OF  THE  Two  WITNESSES  COMPARED      .       .       .    299 

CHAPTER   V. 
THE  DIRECT  ARGUMENT  TO  PROVE  THE  CRIMK         ....    325 

CHAPTER    VI. 
PHYSIOLOGICAL  ARGUMENT 370 

CHAPTER   VII. 

HOW   COULD   SHE   LOVE  HlM? •  •  .      393 

CHAPTER    VIII. 
CONCLUSION 403 

PART   III. 

MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 

THE  TRUE  STORY  OF  LADY  BYRON'S   LIFE  (AS  ORIGINALLY  PUB 
LISHED  IN  "THE  ATLANTIC  MONTHLY") 413 

• 

LORD  LINDSAY'S  LETTER  TO  "THE  LONDON  TIMES"  .  .  .451 
DR.  FORBES  WINSLOW'S  LETTER  TO  "THE  LONDON  TIMES"  .  458 
EXTRACT  FROM  LORD  BYRON'S  EXPUNGED  LETTER  TO  MURRAY  .  461 

EXTRACTS  FROM  "  BLACKWOOD'S  MAGAZINE" 462 

LETTERS  OF  LADY  BYRON  TO  H.  C.  ROBINSON  .  .  .  .468 
DOMESTIC  POEMS  BY  LORD  BYRON 475 


PART   I 


CHAPTER    I. 

INTRODUCTION. 

'nr^HE  interval  since  my  publication  of  "The 
True  Story  of  Lady  Byron's  Life"  has 
been  one  of  stormy  discussion  and  of  much 
invective. 

I  have  not  thought  it  necessary  to  disturb 
my  spirit  and  confuse  my  sense  of  right  by 
even  an  attempt  at  reading  the  many  abusive 
articles  that  both  here  and  in  England  have 
followed  that  disclosure.  Friends  have  under 
taken  the  task  for  me,  giving  me  from  time  to 
time  the  substance  of  anything  really  worthy  of 
attention  which  came  to  view  in  the  tumult. 

It  appeared  to  me  essential  that  this  first 
excitement  should  in  a  measure  spend  itself 
before  there  would  be  a  possibility  of  speaking 
to  any  purpose.  Now,  when  all  would-  seem 


2  INTRODUCTION. 

to  have  spoken  who  can  speak,  and,  it  is  to 
be  hoped,  have  said  the  utmost  they  can  say, 
there  seems  a  propriety  in  listening  calmly,  if 
that  be  possible,  to  what  I  have  to  say  in 
reply. 

And,  first,  why  have  I  made  this  disclosure  at 
all? 

To  this  I  answer  briefly,  because  I  considered 
it  my  duty  to  make  it. 

I  made  it  in  defence  of  a  beloved,  revered 
friend,  whose  memory  stood  forth  in  the  eyes 
of  the  civilized  world  charged  with  most  re 
pulsive  crimes,  of  which  I  certainly  knew  her 
innocent. 

I  claim,  and  shall  prove,  that  Lady  Byron's 
reputation  has  been  the  victim  of  a  concerted 
attack,  begun  by  her  husband  during  her  life 
time,  and  coming  to  its  climax  over  her  grave. 
I  claim,  and  shall  prove,  that  it  was  not  I  who 
stirred  up  this  controversy  in  this  year  1869.  I 
shall  show  who  did  do  it,  and  who  is  responsi 
ble  for  bringing  on  me  that  hard  duty  of  making 


INTRODUCTION.  3 

these  disclosures,  which  it  appears  to  me  ought 
to  have  been  made  by  others. 

I  claim  that  these  facts  were  given  to  me 
unguarded  by  any  p'romise  or  seal  of  secrecy, 
expressed  or  implied ;  that  they  were  lodged 
with-  me  as  one  sister  rests  her  story  with 
another  for  sympathy,  for  counsel,  for  defence. 
Never  did  I  suppose  the  day  would  come  that 
I  should  be  subjected  to  so  cruel  an  anguish  as 
this  use  of  them  has  been  to  me.  Never  did 
I  suppose  that,  —  when  those  kind  hands,  that 
had  shed  nothing  but  blessings,  were  lying  in 
the  helplessness  of  death,  —  when  that  gentle 
heart,  so  sorely  tried  and  to  the  last  so  full  of 
love,  was  lying  cold  in  the  tomb,  —  a  country 
man  in  England  could  be  found  to  cast  the 
foulest  slanders  on  her  grave,  —  and  not  one  in 
all  England  to  raise  an  effective  voice  in  her 
defence. 

I  admit  the  feebleness  of  my  plea,  in  point 
of  execution.  It  was  written  in  a  state  of 
exhausted  health,  when  no  labor  of  the  kind 


4  INTRODUCTION. 

was  safe  for  me,  —  when  my  hand  had  not 
strength  to  hold  the  pen,  and  I  was  forced  to 
dictate  to  another. 

I  have  been  told  that  I   have  no  reason  to 
congratulate  myself  on  it   as    a  literary   effort. 

0  my  brothers  and  sisters  !  is  there  then  nothing 
in  the  world  to   think   of    but  literary  efforts  ? 

1  ask  any  man  with  a  heart  in  his  bosom,  if  he 
had  been  obliged  to  tell  a  story  so  cruel,  because 
his  mother's  grave  gave  no  rest  from  slander,  — 
I  ask  any  woman  who  had  been  forced  to  such 
a  disclosure  to  free  a  dead  sister's  name  from 
grossest  insults,  whether  she  would  have  thought 
of  making   this   work   of   bitterness    a   literary 


>=> 
success  ? 


Are  the  cries  of  the  oppressed,  the  gasps  of 
the  dying,  the  last  prayers  of  mothers,  —  are 
any  words  wrung  like  drops  of  blood  from  the 
human  heart  to  be  judged  as  literary  efforts  ? 

My  fellow-countrymen  of  America,  men  of  the 
press,  I  have  done  you  one  act  of  justice, — 
of  all  your  bitter  articles,  I  have  read  not  one. 


INTRODUCTION.  5 

I  shall  never  be  troubled  in  the  future  time 
by  the  remembrance  of  any  unkind  word  you 
have  said  of  me,  for  at  this  moment  I  recol 
lect  not  one.  I  had  such  faith  in  you,  such 
pride  in  my  countrymen,  as  men  with  whom, 
above  all  others,  the  cause  of  woman  was  safe 
and  sacred,  that  I  was  at  first  astonished  and 
incredulous  at  what  I  heard  of  the  course  of 
the  American  press,  and  was  silent,  not  merely 
from  the  impossibility  of  being  heard,  but  from 
grief  and  shame.  But  reflection  convinces  me 
that  you  were,  in  many  cases,  acting  from  a  mis 
understanding  of  facts  and  through  misguided 
honorable  feeling;  and  I  still  feel  courage,  there 
fore,  to  ask  from  you  a  fair  hearing.  Now,  as  I 
have  done  you  this  justice,  will  you  also  do  me 
the  justice  to  hear  me  seriously  and  candidly  ? 

What  interest  have  you  or  I,  my  brother  and 
my  sister,  in  this  short  life  of  ours,  to  utter  any 
thing  but  the  truth  ?  Is  not  truth  between  man 
and  man  and  between  man  and  woman  the 
foundation  on  which  all  things  rest  ?  Have 


6  INTRODUCTION. 

you  not,  every  individual  of  you,  who  must 
hereafter  give  an  account  yourself  alone  to  God, 
an  interest  to  know  the  exact  truth  in  this 
matter,  and  a  duty  to  perform  as  respects  that 
truth  ?  Hear  me,  then,  while  I  tell  you  the 
position  in  which  I  stood,  and  what  was  my 
course  in  relation  to  it. 

A  shameless  attack  on  my  friend's  memory 
had  appeared  in  the  Blackwood  of  July,  1869, 
branding  Lady  Byron  as  the  vilest  of  criminals, 
and  recommending  the  Guiccioli  book  to  a 
Christian  public  as  interesting  from  the  very 
fact  that  it  was  the  avowed  production  of  Lord 
Byron's  mistress.  No  efficient  protest  was  made 
against  this  outrage  in  England,  and  Littell's 
Living  Age  reprinted  the  Blackwood  article, 
and  the  Harpers,  the  largest  publishing  house 
in  America,  perhaps  in  the  world,  re-published 
the.  book. 

Its  statements  —  with  those  of  the  Black- 
wood,  Pall  Mall  Gazette,  and  other  English  peri 
odicals  —  were  being  propagated  through  all  the 


INTRODUCTION.  / 

young  reading  and  writing  world  of  America.  I 
was  meeting  them  advertised  in  dailies,  and  made 
up  into  articles  in  magazines,  and  thus  the  gener 
ation  of  to-day,  who  had  no  means  of  judging 
Lady  Byron  but  by  these  fables  of  her  slander 
ers,  were  being  foully  deceived.  The  friends  who 
knew  her  personally  were  a  small  select  circle 
in  England,  whom  death  is  every  day  reducing. 
They  were  few  in  number  compared  with  the 
great  world,  and  were  silent.  I  saw  these  foul 
slanders  crystallizing  into  history  uncontra- 
dicted  by  friends  who  knew  her  personally, 
who,  firm  in  their  own  knowledge  of  her  vir 
tues  and  limited  in  view  as  aristocratic  circles 
generally  are,  had  no  idea  of  the  width  of  the 
world  they  were  living  in,  and  the  exigency  of 
the  crisis.  When  time  passed  on  and  no  voice  I 
was  raised,  I  spoke.  I  gave  at  first  a  simple 
story,  for  I  knew  instinctively  that  whoever  put 
the  first  steel  point  of  truth  into  this  dark  cloud 
of  slander  must  wait  for  the  storm  to  spend  itself. 
I  must  say  the  storm  exceeded  my  expectations, 


8  INTRODUCTION. 

and  has  raged  loud  and  long.  But  now  that 
there  is  a  comparative  stillness  I  shall  proceed, 
first,  to  prove  what  I  have  just  been  asserting, 
and,  second,  to  add  to  my  true  story  such  facts 
and  incidents  as  I  did  not  think  proper  at  first 
to  state. 


CHAPTER  II. 

THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

T  N  proving  what  I  asserted  in  the  first  chap- 
ter,  I  make  four  points  :  1st.  A  concerted 
attack  upon  Lady  Byron's  reputation,  begun  by 
Lord  Byron  in  self-defence.  2d.  That  he  trans 
mitted  his  story  to  friends  to  be  continued  after 
his  death.  3d.  That  they  did  so  continue  it. 
4th.  That  the  accusations  reached  their  climax 
over  Lady  Byron's  grave  in  Blackwood  of  1869, 
and  the  Guiccioli  book,  and  that  this  reopening 
of  the  controversy  was  my  reason  for  speaking. 

And  first  I  shall  adduce  my  proofs  that  Lady 
Bryon's  reputation  was,  during  the  whole  course 
of  her  husband's  life,  the  subject  of  a  concen 
trated,  artfully  planned  attack,  commencing  at 
the  time  of  the  separation  and  continuing  dur 
ing  his  life.  By  various  documents  carefully 


10       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

prepared,  and  used  publicly  or  secretly  as  suited 
the  case,  he  made  converts  of  many  honest  men, 
some  of  whom  were  writers  and  men  of  letters, 
who  put  their  talents  at  his  service  during  his 
lifetime  in  exciting  sympathy  for  him,  and  who, 
by  his  own  request,  felt  bound  to  continue  their 
defence  of  him  after  he  was  dead. 

In  order  to  consider  the  force  and  significance 
of  the  documents  I  shall  cite,  we  are  to  bring 
to  our  view  just  the  issues  Lord  Byron  had  to 
meet,  both  at  the  time  of  the  separation  and  for 
a  long  time  after. 

In  Byron's  Memoirs,  Vol.  IV.  Letter  350,  under 
date  December  10,  1819,  nearly  four  years  after 
the  separation,  he  writes  to  Murray  in  a  state 
of  great  excitement  on  account  of  an  article 
in  Blackwood,  in  which  his  conduct  towards 
his  wife  had  been  sternly  and  justly  com 
mented  on,  and  which  he  supposed  to  have  been 
written  by  Wilson,  of  the  Noc.tes  Ambrosianse. 

He  says  in  this  letter :  "  I  like  and  admire  W n, 

and  he  should  not  have  indulged  himself  in  such 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.        I  I 

outrageous    license When    he   talks   of 

Lady  Byron's  business  he  talks  of  what  he 
knows  nothing  about ;  and  you  may  tell  him 
110  man  can  desire  a  public  investigation  of  that 
affair  more  tJ{an  I  do!'  * 

He  shortly  after  wrote  and  sent  to  Murray  a 
pamphlet  for  publication,  which  was  printed,  but 
not  generally  circulated  till  some  time  afterwards. 
Though  more  than  three  years  had  elapsed 
since  the  separation,  the  current  against  him  at 
this  time  was  so  strong  in  England  that  his 
friends  thought  it  best,  at  first,  to  use  this  article 
of  Lord  -Byron's  discreetly  with  influential  per 
sons  rather  than  to  give  it  to  the  public. 

The  writer  in  Blackwood  and  the  indigna 
tion  of  the  English  public,  of  which  that  writer 
was  the  voice,  were  now  particularly  stirred  up 
by  the  appearance  of  the  first  two  cantos  of 
"Don  Juan,"  in  which  the  indecent  caricature 
of  Lady  Byron  was  placed  in  vicinity  with 
other  indecencies,  the  publication  of  which 

*  The  italics  are  mine. 


12       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

was  justly  considered  an  insult  to  a  Christian 
community. 

It  must  here  be  mentioned,  for  the  honor  of 
Old  England,  that  at  first  she  did  her  duty  quite 
respectably  in  regard  to  "  Don  Juan."  One  can 
still  read,  in  Murray's  standard  edition  of  the 
poems,  how  every  respectable  press  thundered 
reprobations,  which  it  would  be  well  enough  to 
print  and  circulate  as  tracts  for  our  days. 

Byron,  it  seems,  had  thought  of  returning  to 
England,  but  he  says,  in  the  letter  we  have 
quoted,  that  he  has  changed  his  mind,  and  shall 
not  go  back,  adding  :  "  I  have  finished  the  Third 
Canto  of  'Don  Juan,'  but  the  things  I  have  heard 
and  read  %discourage  all  future  publication.  You 
may  try  the  copy  question,  but  you  '11  lose  it  ; 
the  cry  is  up,  and  the  cant  is  up.  I  should  have 
no  objection  to  return  the  price  of  the  copy 
right,  and  have  written  to  Mr.  Kinnaird  on  this 
subject." 

One  sentence  quoted  by  Lord  Byron  from  the 
Blackwood  article  will  show  the  modern  readers 


THE    ATTACK    ON    LADY    BYRON.  13 

what  the   respectable  world   of  that   day  were 
thinking  and  saying  of  him  :  — 

"  It  appears,  in  short,  as  if  this  miserable  man,  hav 
ing  exhausted  every  species  of  sensual  gratification,  — 
having  drained  the  cup  of  sin  even  to  its  bitterest 
dregs,  —  were  resolved  to  show  us  that  he  is  no 
longer  a  human  being  even  in  his  frailties,  but  a  cool, 
unconcerned  fiend,  laughing  with  detestable  glee  over 
the  whole  of  the  better  and  worse  elements  of  which 
human  life  is  composed." 

The  defence  which  Lord  Byron  makes,  in  his 
reply  to  that  paper,  is  of  a  man  cornered  and 
fighting  for  his  life.  He  speaks  thus  of  the  state 
of  feeling  at  the  time  of  his  separation  from  his 
wife :  — 

"  I  was  accused  of  every  monstrous  vice  by  public 
rumor  and  private  rancor  ;  my  name,  which  had  been 
a  knightly  or  a  noble  one  since  my  fathers  helped  to 
conquer  the  kingdom  for  William  the  Norman,  was 
tainted.  I  felt  that,  if  what  was  whispered  and  mut 
tered  and  murmured  was  true,  I  was  unfit  for  Eng 
land  ;  if  false,  England  was  unfit  for  me.  I  withdrew ; 
but  this  was  not  enough.  In  other  countries  —  in 


14       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

Switzerland,  in  the  shadow  of  the  Alps,  and  by  the 
blue  depth  of  the  lakes,  —  I  was  pursued  and  breathed 
upon  by  the  same  blight  I  crossed  the  mountains, 
but  it  was  the  same  ;  so  I  went  a  little  farther,  and 
settled  myself  by  the  waves  of  the  Adriatic,  like  the 
stag  at  bay,  who  betakes  him  to  the  waters. 

"  If  I  may  judge  by  the  statements  of  the  few  friends 
who  gathered  round  me,  the  outcry  of  the  period  to 
which  I  allude  was  beyond  all  precedent,  all  parallel, 
even  in  those  cases  where  political  motives  have  sharp 
ened  slander  and  doubled  enmity.  I  was  advised  not 
to  go  to  the  theatres  lest  I  should  be  hissed,  nor  to 
my  duty  in  Parliament,  lest  I  should  be  insulted  by 
the  way  ;  even  on  the  day  of  my  departure  my  most 
intimate  friend  told  me  afterwards  that  he  was  under 
the  apprehension  of  violence  from  the  people  who  might 
be  assembled  at  the  door  of  the  carriage." 

Now  Lord  Byron's  charge  against  his  wife 
was  that  SHE  was  directly  responsible  for  get 
ting  up  and  keeping  up  this  persecution,  which 
drove  him  from  England,  —  that  she  did  it  in 
a  deceitful,  treacherous  manner,  which  left  him 
no  chance  of  defending  himself. 

He  charged  against  her   that,  taking  advan- 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.        15 

tage  of  a  time  when  his  affairs  were  in  confusion, 
and  an  execution  in  the  house,  she  left  him  sud 
denly,  with  treacherous  professions  of  kindness, 
which  were  repeated  by  letters  on  the  road,  and 
that  soon  after  her  arrival  at  her  home  her  par 
ents  sent  him  word  that  she  would  never  return 
to  him,  and  she  confirmed  the  message  ;  that 
when  he  asked  the  reason  why,  she  refused  to 
state  any  ;  and  that  when  this  step  gave  rise 
to  a  host  of  slanders  against  him  she  silently 
encouraged  and  confirmed  the  slanders.  His 
claim  was  that  he  was  denied  from  that  time 
forth  even  the  justice  of  any  tangible  accusation 
against  himself  which  he  might  meet  and  re 
fute. 

He  observes,  in  the  same  article  from  which 
we  have  quoted  :  — 

"  When  one  tells  me  that  I  cannot  '  in  any  way  jus 
tify  my  own  behavior -in  that  affair,'  I  acquiesce,  be 
cause  no  man  can  '•justify  '  himself  until  he  knows  of 
what  he  is  accused  ;  and  I  have  never  had  —  and, 
God  knows,  my  whole  desire  has  ever  been  to  obtain 


1 6       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

it  —  any  specific  charge,  in  a  tangible  shape,  submitted 
to  me  by  the  adversary,  nor  by  others,  unless  the 
atrocities  of  public  rumor  and  the  mysterious  silence 
of  the  lady's  legal  advisers  may  be  deemed  such." 

Lord  Byron,  his  publishers,  friends,  and  biog 
raphers,  thus  agree  in  representing  his  wife  as 
the  secret  author  and  abettor  of  that  persecu 
tion,  which  it  is  claimed  broke  up  his  life,  and 
was  the  source  of  all  his  subsequent  crimes 
and  excesses. 

Lord  Byron  wrote  a  poem  in  September, 
1816,  in  Switzerland,  just  after  the  separation, 
in  which  he  stated,  in  so  many  words,  these 
accusations  against  his  wife.  Shortly  after  the 
poet's  death  Murray  published  this  poem,  to 
gether  with  the  "  Fare  thee  well,"  and  the  lines 
to  his  sister,  under  the  title  of  "  Domestic 
Pieces,"  in  his  standard  edition  of  Byron's 
poetry.  It  is  to  be  remarked,  then,  that  this 
was  for  some  time  a  private  document,  shown 
to  confidential  friends,  and  made  use  of  judi 
ciously,  as  readers  or  listeners  to  his  story 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.       I/ 

were  able  to  bear  it.  Lady  Byron  then  had  a 
strong  party  in  England.  Sir  Samuel  Rom- 
illy  and  Dr.  Lushington  were  her  counsel. 
Lady  Byron's  parents  were  living,  and  the 
appearance  in  the  public  prints  of  such  a 
piece  as  this  would  have  brought  down  an  ag 
gravated  storm  of  public  indignation. 

For  the  general  public  such  documents  as 
the  "  Fare  thee  well "  were  circulating  in  Eng 
land,  and  he  frankly  confessed  his  wife's 
virtues  and  his  own  sins  to  Madame  cle  Stae'l 
and  others  in  Switzerland,  declaring  himself 
in  the  wrong,  sensible  of  his  errors,  and  long 
ing  to  cast  himself  at  the  feet  of  that  serene 
perfection, 

"  Which  wanted  one  sweet  weakness,  —  to  forgive." 
But  a  little  later  he  drew  for  his  private  par 
tisans  this  bitter  poetical  indictment  against 
her,  which,  as  we  have  said,  was  used  dis 
creetly  during  his  life,  and  published  after  his 
death. 

Before  we  proceed  to  lay  that   poem   before 


1 8       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

the  reader  we  will  refresh  his  memory  with 
some  particulars  of  the  tragedy  of  ^Eschylus, 
which  Lord  Byron  selected  as  the  exact  par 
allel  and  proper  illustration  of  his  wife's  treat 
ment  of  himself.  In  his  letters  and  journals 
he  often  alludes  to  her  as  Clytemnestra,  and 
the  allusion  has  run  the  round  of  a  thousand 
American  papers  lately,  and  been  read  by  a 
thousand  good  honest  people,  who  had  no  very 
clear  idea  who  Clytemnestra  was,  and  what 
she  did  which  was  like  the  proceedings  of 
Lady  Byron.  According  to  the  tragedy, 
Clytemnestra  secretly  hates  her  husband 
Agamemnon,  whom  she  professes  to  love,  and 
wishes  to  put  him  out  of  the  way  that  she 

« 

may  marry  her  lover,  ^Egistheus.  When  her 
husband  returns  from  the  Trojan  war  she 
receives  him  with  pretended  kindness,  and 
officiously  offers  to  serve  him  at  the  bath. 
Inducing  him  to  put  on  a  garment,  of  which 
she  had  adroitly  sewed  up  the  sleeves  and 
neck  so  as  to  hamper  the  use  of  his  arms, 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.        1 9 

she  gives  the  signal  to  a  concealed  band  of 
assassins,  who  rush  upon  him  and  stab  him. 
Clytemnestra  is  represented  by  ^Eschylus 
as  grimly  triumphing  in  her  success,  which 
leaves  her  free  to  marry  an  adulterous  para 
mour. 

"  I  did  it,  too,  in  such  a  cunning  wise, 
That  he  could  neither  scape  nor  ward  off  doom. 
I  staked  around  his  steps  an  endless  net, 
As  for  the  fishes." 

In  the  piece  entitled  "  Lines  on  hearing 
Lady  Byron  is  ill,"  Lord  Byron  charges  on 
his  wife  a  similar  treachery  and  cruelty. 
The  whole  poem  is  in  Murray's  English  edi 
tion,  Vol.  IV.  p.  207.  Of  it  we  quote  the 
following.  The  reader  will  bear  in  mind  that 
it  is  addressed  to  Lady  Byron  on  a  sick-bed. 

"  I  am  too  well  avenged,  but  'twas  my  right  ; 
Whate'er  my  sins  might  be,  thou  wert  not  sent 
To  be  the  Nemesis  that  should  requite, 
Nor  did  Heaven  choose  so  near  an  instrument. 
Mercy  is  for  the  merciful  !     If  thou 


2O  THE    ATTACK    ON    LADY    BYRON. 

Hast  been  of  such,  't  will  be  accorded  now. 

Thy  nights  are  banished  from  the  realms  of  sleep, 

For  thou  art  pillowed  on  a  curse  too  deep  ; 

Yes  !  they  may  flatter  thee,  but  thou  shalt  feel 

A  hollow  agony  that  will  not  heal. 

Thou  hast  sown  in  my  sorrow,  and  must  reap 

The  bitter  harvest  in  a  woe  as  real. 

I  have  had  many  foes,  but  none  like  thee  j 

For  'gainst  the  rest  myself  I  could  defend, 

And  be  avenged,  or  turn  them  into  friend  ; 

But  thou,  in  safe  implacability, 

Hast  naught  to  dread,  —  in  thy  own  weakness  shielded, 

And  in  my  love,  which  hath  but  too  much  yielded, 

And  spared,  for  thy  sake,  some  I  should  not  spare. 

And  thus  upon  the  world,  trust  in  thy  truth, 

And  the  wild  fame  of  my  ungoverned  youth,  — 

On  things  that  were  not  and  on  things  that  are,  — 

Even  upon  such  a  basis  thou  hast  built 

A  monument  whose  cement  hath  been  guilt ! 

The  moral  Clytemnestra  of  thy  lord, 

And  hewed  down  with  an  unsuspected  sword 

Fame,  peace,  and  hope,  and  all  that  better  life 

Which,  but  for  this  cold  treason  of  thy  heart, 

Might  yet  have  risen  from  the  grave  of  strife 

And  found  a  nobler  duty  than  to  part. 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.       21 

But  of  thy  virtues  thou  didst  make  a  vice, 
Trafficking  in  them  with  a  purpose  cold, 
And  buying  others'  woes  at  any  price, 
For  present  anger  and  for  future  gold  ; 
And  thus,  once  entered  into  crooked  ways, 
The  early  truth,  that  was  thy  proper  praise, 
Did  not  still  walk  beside  thee,  but  at  times, 
And  with  a  breast  unknowing  its  own  crimes, 
Deceits,  averments  incompatible, 
Equivocations,  and  the  thoughts  that  dwell 
In  Janus  spirits,  the  significant  eye 
That  learns  to  He  with  silence*  the  pretext 
Of  prudence  with  advantages  annexed, 
The  acquiescence  in  all  things  that  tend, 
No  matter  how,  to  the  desired  end,  — 
All  found  a  place  in  thy  philosophy. 
The  means  were  worthy  and  the  end  is  won. 
I  would  not  do  to  thee  as  thou  hast  done." 

Now,  if  this  language  means  anything,  it 
means,  in  plain  terms,  that,  whereas,  in  her 
early  days,  Lady  Byron  was  peculiarly  char 
acterized  by  truthfulness,  she  has  in  her  recent 
dealings  with  him  acted  the  part  of  a  liar,  — 

*  The  italics  are  mine. 


22       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

that  she  is  not  only  a  liar,  but  that  she  lies  for 
cruel,  mean,  and  malignant  purposes,  —  that  she 
is  a  moral  assassin,  and  her  treatment  of  her  hus 
band  has  been  like  that  of  the  most  detestable 
murderess  and  adulteress  of  ancient  history, — 
that  she  has  learned  to  lie  skilfully  and  artfully, 
that  she  equivocates,  says  incompatible  things, 
and  crosses  her  own  tracks,  —  that  she  is  double- 
faced,  and  has  the  art  to  lie  even  by  silence, 
and  that  she  has  become  wholly  unscrupulous, 
and  acquiesces  in  anyihmg,  no  matter  what, 
that  tends  to  the  desired  end,  and  that  end 
the  destruction  of  her  husband.  This  is  a 
brief  summary  of  the  story  that  Byron  made  it 
his  life's  business  to  spread  through  society,  to 
propagate  and  make  converts  to  during  his  life, 
and  which  has  been  in  substance  reasserted  by 
Blackwood  in  a  recent  article  this  year. 

Now,  the  reader  will  please  to  notice  that  this 
poem  is  dated  in  September,  1816,  and  that  on 
the  29th  of  March,  of  that  same  year,  he  had 
thought  proper  to  tell  quite  another  story.  At 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.        23 

that  time  the  deed  of  separation  was  not  signed, 
and  negotiations  between  Lady  Byron,  acting 
by  legal  counsel,  and  himself  were  still  pending. 
At  that  time,  therefore,  he  was  standing  in  a 
community  who  knew  all  he  had  said  in  former 
days  of  his  wife's  character,  who  were  in  an 
aroused  and  excited  state  by  the  fact  that  so 
lovely  and  good  and  patient  a  woman  had  ac 
tually  been  forced  for  some  unexplained  cause 
to  leave  him.  His  policy  at  that  "'time  was  to 
make  large  general  confessions  of  sin,  and  to 
praise  and  compliment  her,  with  a  view  of  en 
listing  sympathy.  Everybody  feels  for  a  hand 
some  sinner,  weeping  on  his  knees,  asking  par 
don  for  his  offences  against  his  wife  in  the  public 
newspapers. 

The  celebrated  "  Fare  thee  well,"  as  we  are 
told,  was  written  on  the  i/th  of  March,  and 
accidentally  found  its  way  into  the  newspapers 
at  this  time  "through  the  imprudence  of  a 
friend  whom  he  allowed  to  take  a  copy."  These 
"  imprudent  friends "  have  all  along  been  such 
a  marvellous  convenience  to  Lord  Byron. 


24       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

But  the  question  met  him  on  all  sides,  What 
is  the  matter  ?  This  wife  you  have  declared  the 
brightest,  sweetest,  most  amiable  of  beings,  and 
against  whose  behavior  as  a  wife  you  actually 
never  had  nor  can  have  a  complaint  to  make,  — 
why  is  she  now  all  of  a  sudden  so  inflexibly  set 
against  you  ? 

This  question  required  an  answer,  and  he 
answered  by  writing  another  poem,  which  also 
accidentally  fbund  its  way  into  the  public  prints. 
It  is  in  his  "Domestic  Pieces,"  which  the  reader 
may  refer  to  at  the  end  of  this  volume,  and  is 
called  "A  Sketch." 

There  was  a  most  excellent,  respectable,  well- 
behaved  Englishwoman,  a  Mrs.  Clermont,*  who 
had  been  Lady  Byron's  governess  in  her  youth, 
and  was  still,  in  mature  life,  revered  as  her 
confidential  friend.  It  appears  that  this  person 
had  been  with  Lady  Byron  during  a  part  of 

*  In  Lady  Blessington's  Memoirs  this  name  is  given  Charle- 
mont ;  in  the  late  Temple  Bar  article  on  the  character  of  Lady 
Byron  it  is  given  Clermont.  I  have  followed  the  latter. 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.       25 

her  married  life,  especially  the  bitter  hours 
of  her  lonely  child-bed,  when  a  young  wife  so 
much  needs  a  sympathetic  friend.  This  Mrs. 
Clermont  was  the  person  selected  by  Lord  Byron 
at  this  time  to  be  the  scapegoat  to  bear  away 
the  difficulties  of  the  case  into  the  wilderness. 

We  are  informed  in  Moore's  Life  what  a  noble 
pride  of  rank  Lord  Byron  possessed,  and  how 
when  the  head-master  of  a  school,  against  whom 
he  had  a  pique,  invited  him  to  dinner,  he  de 
clined,  saying,  "  To  tell  you  the  truth,  Doctor,  if 
you  should  come  to  Newstead,  I  should  n't  think 
of  inviting  you  to  dine  with  me,  and  so  I  don't 
care  to  dine  with  you  here."  Different  countries, 
it  appears,  have  different  standards  as  to  good 
taste ;  Moore  gives  this  as  an  amusing  instance 
of  a  young  lord's  spirit. 

Accordingly,  his  first  attack  against"  this 
"lady,"  as  we  Americans  should  call  her,  con 
sists  in  gross  statements  concerning  her  having 
been  born  poor  and  in  an  inferior  rank.  He 
begins  by  stating  that  she  was 


26       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

"  Born  in  the  garret,  in  the  kitchen  bred, 
Promoted  thence  to  deck  her  mistress'  head  ; 
Next  —  for  some  gracious  service  unexpressed 
And  from  its  wages  only  to  be  guessed  — 
Raised  from  the  toilet  to  the  table,  where 
Her  wondering  betters  wait  behind  her  chair. 
With  eye  unmoved  and  forehead  unabashed, 
She  dines  from  off  the  plate  she  lately  washed ; 
Quick  with  the  tale,  and  ready  with  the  lie, 
The  genial  confidante  and  general  spy,  — 
Who  could,  ye  gods  !  her  next  employment  guess,  — 
An  only  infant's  earliest  governess  ! 
What  had  she  made  the  pupil  of  her  art 
None  knows  ;  but  that  high  soul  secured  the  heart, 
And  panted  for  the  truth  it  could  not  hear 
With  longing  soul  and  itndeluded  ear  !  "  * 

The  poet  here  recognizes  as  a  singular  trait 
in  Lady  Byron  her  peculiar  love  of  truth,  —  a 
trait  which  must  have  struck  every  one  that 
had  any  knowledge  of  her  through  life.  He 
goes  on  now  to  give  what  he  certainly  knew 
to  be  the  real  character  of  Lady  Byron  :  — 

*  The  italics  are  mine. 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.       2/ 

"  Foiled  was  perversion  by  that  youthful  mind, 
Which  flattery  fooled  not,  baseness  could  not  blind, 
Deceit  infect  not,  nor  contagion  soil, 
Indulgence  weaken,  or  example  spoil, 
Nor  mastered  science  tempt  her  to  look  down 
On  humbler  talent  with  a  pitying  frown, 
Nor  genius  swell,  nor  beauty  render  vain, 
Nor  envy  ruffle  to  retaliate  pain." 

We  are    now   informed    that    Mrs.    Clermont, 
whom   he   afterwards  says   in   his  letters  was  a 
spy   of    Lady    Byron's    mother,    set    herself    to 
make  mischief  between  them.     He  says:  — 
"  If  early  habits,  —  those  strong  links  that  bind 
At  times  the  loftiest  to  the  meanest  mind, — 
Have  given  her  power  too  deeply  to  instil 
The  angry  essence  of  her  deadly  will  ; 
If  like  a  snake  she  steal  within  your  walls, 
Till  the  black  slime  betray  her  as  she  crawls  ; 
If  like  a  viper  to  the  heart  she  wind, 
And  leaves  the  venom  there  she  did  not  find, — 
What  marvel  that  this  hag  of  hatred  works 
Eternal  evil  latent- as  she  lurks." 

The   noble  lord  then  proceeds  to  abuse    this 
woman  of  inferior  rank   in  the  language  of  the 


28       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

upper   circles.     He   thus   describes   her   person 
and  manner: — 

"  Skilled  by  a  touch  to  deepen  scandal's  tints 
With  all  the  kind  mendacity  of  hints, 
While  mingling  truth  with  falsehood,  sneers  with  smiles, 
A  thread  of  candor  with  a  web  of  wiles  ; 
A  plain  blunt  show  of  briefly  spoken  scheming  ; 
A  lip  of  lies  ;  a  face  formed  to  conceal, 
And  without  feeling  mock  at  all  who  feel  ; 
With  a  vile  mask  the  Gorgon  would  disown,  — 
A  dieek  of  parchment  and  an  eye  of  stone. 
Mark  how  the  channels  of  her  yellow  blood 
Ooze  to  her  skin  and  stagnate  there  to  mud, 
Cased  like  the  centipede  in  saffron  mail, 
Or  darker  greenness  of  the  scorpion's  scale,  — 
(For  drawn  from  reptiles  only  may  we  trace 
Congenial  colors  in  that  soul  or  face,) 
Look  on  her  features  !  and  behold  her  mind 
As  in  a  mirror  of  itself  defined  : 
Look  on  the  picture  !  deem  it  not  o'ercharged  ; 
There  is  no  trait  which  might  not  be  enlarged." 

The  poem  thus  ends:  — 

"  May  the  strong  curse  of  crushed  affections  light 
Back  on  thy  bosom  with  reflected  blight, 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.        29 

And  make  thee  in  thy  leprosy  of  mind 

As  loathsome  to  thyself  as  to  mankind  i 

Till  all  thy  self-thoughts  curdle  into  hate, 

Black  —  as  thy  will  for  others  would  create  ; 

Till  thy  hard  heart  be  calcined  into  dust, 

And  thy  soul  welter  in  its  hideous  crust. 

O,  may  thy  grave  be  sleepless  as  the  bed, 

The  widowed  couch  of  fire,  that  thou  hast  spread  ! 

Then  when  thou  fain  wouldst  weary  Heaven  with  prayer, 

Look  on  thy  earthly  victims — and  despair  ! 

Down  to  the  dust !  and  as  thou  rott'st  away, 

Even  worms  shall  perish  on  thy  poisonous  clay. 

But  for  the  love  I  bore  and  still  must  bear 

To  her  thy  malice  from  all  ties  would  tear, 

Thy  name,  —  thy  human  name,  —  to  every  eye 

The  climax  of  all  scorn,  should  hang  on  high, 

Exalted  o'er  thy  less  abhorred  compeers, 

And  festering  in  the  infamy  of  years." 

March  29,  1816. 

Now,  on  the  2Qth  of  March,  1816,  this  was 
Lord  Byron's  story.  He  states  that  his  wife  had 
a  truthfulness  even  from  early  girlhood  that  the 
most  artful  and  unscrupulous  governess  could 


3O       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

not  pollute,  —  that  she  always  panted  for  truth, 
—  that  flattery  could  not  fool  nor  baseness  blind 
her,  —  that  though  she  was  a  genius  and  master 
of  science,  she  was  yet  gentle  and  tolerant,  and 
one  whom  no  envy  could  ruffle  to  retaliate  pain. 

In  September  of  the  same  year  she  is  a  mon 
ster  of  unscrupulous  deceit  and  vindictive  cruelty. 
Now,  what  had  happened  in  the  five  months 
between  the  dates  of  these  poems  to  produce 
such  a  change  of  opinion?  Simply  this:  — 

1st.  The  negotiation  between  him  and  his 
wife's  lawyers  had  ended  in  his  signing  a  deed 
of  separation  in  preference  to  standing  a  suit 
for  divorce. 

2d.  Madame  de  Stael,  moved  by  his  tears 
of  anguish  and  professions  of  repentance,  had 
offered  to  negotiate  with  Lady  Byron  on  his 
behalf,  and  had  failed. 

The  failure  of  this  application  is  the  only 
apology  given  by  Moore  and  Murray  for  this 
poem,  which  gentle  Thomas  Moore  admits  was 
not  in  quite  as  generous  a  strain  as  the  "Fare 
thee  well." 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.       31 

But  Lord  Byron  knew  perfectly  well,  when 
he  suffered  that  application  to  be  made,  that 
Lady  Byron  had  been  entirely  convinced  that 
her  marriage  relations  with  him  could  never  be 
renewed,  and  that  duty  both  to  man  and  God 
required  her  to  separate  from  him.  The  allow 
ing  the  negotiation  was,  therefore,  an  artifice  to 
place  his  wife  before  the  public  in  the  attitude 
of  a  hard-hearted,  inflexible  woman  ;  her  refusal 
was  what  he  knew  beforehand  must  inevitably 
be  the  result,  and  merely  gave  him  capital  in  the 
sympathy  of  his  friends,  by  which  they  should 
be  brought  to  tolerate  and  accept  the  bitter 
accusations  of  this  poem. 

We  have  recently  heard  it  asserted  that  this 
last-named  piece  of  poetry  was  the  sudden  off 
spring  of  a  fit  of  ill-temper,  and  was  never  in 
tended  to  be  published  at  all.  There  were  cer 
tainly  excellent  reasons  why  his  friends  should 
have  advised  him  not  to  publish  it  at  that  time. 
But  that  it  was  read  with  sympathy  by  the  circle 
of  his  intimate  friends,  and  believed  by  them,  is 


32       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

evident  from  the  frequency  with  which  allusions 
to  it  occur  in  his  confidential  letters  to  them.* 

About  three  months  after,  under  date  March 
10,  1817,  he  writes  to  Moore  :  "  I  suppose  now  I 
shall  never  be  able  to  shake  off  my  sables  in  pub 
lic  imagination,  more  particularly  since  my  moral 

clove  down  my  fame."  Again  to  Murray 

in  1819,  three  years  after,  he  says:  "I  never 
hear  anything  of  Ada,  the  little  Electra  of 
Mycenae," 

Electra  was  the  daughter  of  Clytemnestra,  in 
the  Greek  poem,  who  lived  to  condemn  hei 
wicked  mother,  and  to  call  on  her  brother 
to  avenge  the  father.  There  was  in  this  men 
tion  of  Electra  more  than  meets  the  ear.  Many 
passages  in  Lord  Byron's  poetry  show  that  he 
intended  to  make  this  daughter  a  future  parti 
san  against  her  mother,  and  explain  the  awful 
words  he  is  stated  in  Lady  Anne  Barnard's 
diary,  to  have  used  when  first  he  looked  on  his 

*  In  Lady  Blessington's  conversations  with  Lord  Byron,  just 
before  he  went  to  Greece,  she  records  that  he  gave  her  this 
poem  in  manuscript.  It  was  published  in  her  Journal. 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.        33 

little  girl,  —  "  What  an  instrument  of  torture  I 
have  gained  in  you  !  " 

In  a  letter  to  Lord  Blessington,  April  6.  1823, 
he  says,  speaking  of  Dr.  Parr  :  *  - 

u  He  did  me  the  honor  once  to  be  a  patron  of  mine, 
though  a  great  friend  of  the  other  branch  of  the  house 
of  Atreus,  and  the  Greek  teacher,  I  believe,  of  my  moral 
Clytemnestra.  I  say  moral  because  it  is  true,  and  is  so 
useful  to  the  virtuous,  that  it  enables  them  to  do  any 
thing  without  the  aid  of  an  /Egistheus." 

If  Lord  Byron  wrote  this  poem  merely  in  a 
momentary  fit  of  spleen,  why  were  there  so 
many  persons  evidently  quite  familiar  with 
his  allusions  to  it  ?  and  why  was  it  preserved 
in  Murray's  hands  ?  and  why  published  after 
his  death  ?  That  Byron  was  in  the  habit  of 
reposing  documents  in  the  hands  of  Murray, 
to  be  used  as  occasion  offered,  is  evident  from 
a  part  of  a  note  written  by  him  to  Murray 
respecting  some  verses  so  intrusted  :  "  Pray  let 

*  Vol.  VI.  p.  22. 


34       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

not    these    versiculi    go   forth   with   my    name 
except  to  the  initiated"  * 

Murray,  in  publishing  this  attack  on  his  wife 
after  Lord  Byron's  death,  showed  that  he  be 
lieved  in  it,  and,  so  believing,  deemed  Lady 
Byron  a  woman  whose  widowed  state  deserved 
neither  sympathy  nor  delicacy  of  treatment. 
At  a  time  when  every  sentiment  in  the  heart 
of  the  most  deeply  wronged  woman  would  forbid 
her  appearing  to  justify  herself  from  such  cruel 
slander  of  a  dead  husband,  an  honest,  kind- 
hearted,  worthy  Englishman  actually  thought  it 
right  and  proper  to  give  these  lines  to  her  eyes 
and  the  eyes  of  all  the  reading  world.  Noth 
ing  can  show  more  plainly  what  this  poem  was 
written  for,  and  how  thoroughly  it  did  its  work  ! 
Considering  Byron  as  a  wronged  man,  Murray 
thought  he  was  contributing  his  mite  towards 
doing  him  justice.  His  editor  prefaced  the 
whole  set  of  "  Domestic  Pieces "  with  the  fol 
lowing  statements :  — 

*  Byron's  Miscellany,  Vol.  II.  p.  358.     London,  1853. 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.       35 

"  They  all  refer  to  the  unhappy  separation,  of  which  the 
precise  causes  are  still  a  mystery,  and  which  he  declared 
to  the  last  were  never  disclosed  to  himself.  He  admitted 
that  pecuniary  embarrassments,  disordered  health,  and 
dislike  to  family  restraints  had  aggravated  his  naturally 
violent  temper  and  driven  him  to  excesses.  He  suspect 
ed  that  his  mother-in-law  had  fomented 'the  discord, — 
which  Lady  Byron  denies,  —  and  that  more  was  due  to 
the  malignant  offices  of  a  female  dependant,  who  is  the 
subject  of  the  bitterly  satirical  sketch. 

"  To  these  general  statements  can  only  be  added  the 
still  vaguer  allegations  of  Lady  Byron,  that  she  conceived 
his  conduct  to  be  the  result  of  insanity,  —  that,  the  phy 
sician  pronouncing  him  responsible  for  his  actions,  she 
could  submit  to  them  no  longer,  and  that  Dr.  Lush- 
ington,  her  legal  adviser,  agreed  that  a  reconciliation 
was  neither  proper  nor  possible.  No  weight  can  be 
attached  to  the  opinions  of  an  opposing  counsel  upon 
accusations  made  by  one  party  behind  the  back  of  the 
other,  who  urgently  demanded  and  was  pertinaciously 
refused  the  least  opportunity  of  denial  or  defence.  He 
rejected  the  proposal  for  an  amicable  separation,  but  con 
sented  when  threatened  with  a  suit  in  Doctors*  Com 
mons"  * 

*  The  italics  are  mine. 


36       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

Neither  honest  Murray  nor  any  of  Byron's 
partisans  seem  to  have  pondered  the  admis 
sion  in  these  last  words. 

Here,  as  appears,  was  a  woman,  driven  to 
the  last  despair,  standing  with  her  child  in 
her  arms,  asking  from  English  laws  protec 
tion  for  herself  and  child  against  her  hus 
band 

She  had  appealed  to  the  first  counsel  in 
England,  and  was  acting  under  their  direc 
tion. 

Two  of  the  greatest  lawyers  in  England  have 
pronounced  that  there  has  been  such  a  cause 
of  offence  on  his  part  that  a  return  to  him  is 
neither  proper  nor  possible,  and  that  no  alter 
native  remains  to  her  but  separation  or  divorce. 

He  asks  her  to  state-  her  charges  against  him. 
She,  making  answer  under  advice  of  her  coun 
sel,  says,  "  That  if  he  insists  on  the  specifica 
tions,  he  must  receive  them  in  open  court  in 
a  suit  for  divorce." 

What,  now,  ought  to  have  been  the  conduct 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.       37 

of  any  brave,  honest  man,  who  believed  that 
his  wife  was  taking  advantage  of  her  reputation 
for  virtue  to  turn  every  one  against  him,  who 
saw  that  she  had  turned  on  her  side  even  the 
lawyer  he  sought  to  retain  on  his  ;  *  that  she 
was  an  unscrupulous  woman,  who  acquiesced 
in  every  and  any  thing  to  gain  her  ends,  while 
he  stood  before  the  public,  as  he  says,  "  accused 
of  every  monstrous  vice,  by  public  rumor  or 
private  rancor  "  ?  When  she,  under  advice  of 
her  lawyers,  made  the  alternative  legal  separa 
tion  or  open  investigation  in  court  for  divorce, 
what  did  he  do  ? 

*  Lord  Byron  says,  in  his  observations  on  an  article  in 
Blackwood  :  "  I  recollect  being  much  hurt  by  Romilly's  con 
duct  :  he  (having  a  general  retainer  for  me)  went  over  to  the 
adversary,  alleging,  on  being  reminded  of  his  retainer,  that 
he  had  forgotten  it,  as  his  clerk  had  so  many.  I  observed 
that  some  of  those  who  were  now  so  eagerly  laying  the  axe 
to  my  roof-tree  might  see  their  own  shaken.  His  fell  and 
crushed  him." 

In  the  first  edition  of  Moore's  Life  of  Lord  Byron  there 
was  printed  a  letter  on  Sir  Samuel  Romilly,  so  brutal  that 
it  was  suppressed  in  the  subsequent  editions.  (See  Appendix.) 


38  THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

HE  SIGNED  THE  ACT  OF  SEPARATION  AND 
LEFT  ENGLAND. 

Now,  let  any  man  who  knows  the  legal  mind 
of  England,  —  let  any  lawyer  who  knows  the 
character  of  Sir  Samuel  Romilly  and  Dr. 
Lushington,  ask  whether  they  were  the  men  to 
take  a  case  into  court  for  a  woman  that  had 
no  evidence  but  her  own  statements  and  im 
pressions  ?  Were  they  men  to  go  to  trial 
without  proofs  ?  Did  they  not  know  that  there 
were  artful,  hysterical  women  in  the  world, 
and  would  they,  of  all  people,  be  the  men  to 
take  a  woman's  story  on  her  own  side,  and 
advise  her  in  the  last  issue  to  bring  it  into 
open  court,  without  legal  proof  of  the  strongest 
kind  ?  Now,  as  long  as  Sir  Samuel  Romilly 
lived,  this  statement  of  Byron's  —  that  he  was 
condemned  unheard,  and  had  no  chance  of 
knowing  whereof  he  was  accused — never  ap 
peared  in  public. 

It,  however,  was  most  actively  circulated  in 
private.  That  Byron  was  in  the  habit  of  intrust- 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.       39 

ing  to  different  confidants  articles  of  various 
kinds  to  be  shown  to  different  circles  as  they 
could  bear  them,  we  have  already  shown.  We 
have  recently  come  upon  another  instance  of  this 
kind.  In  the  late  eagerness  to  exculpate  Byron, 
a  new  document  has  turned  up,  of  which  honest 
John  Murray,  it  appears,  had  never  heard  when, 
after  Byron's  death,  he  published  in  the  preface 
to  his  "Domestic  Pieces"  the  sentence:  "He 
rejected  the  proposal  for  an  amicable  separation, 
but  consented  when  threatened  with  a  suit  in  Doc 
tors  Commons?  It  appears  that,  up  to  1853, 
neither  John  Murray  senior,  nor  the  son  who 
now  fills  his  place,  had  taken  any  notice  of  this 
newly  found  document,  which  we  are  now  in 
formed  "  was  drawn  up  by  Lord  Byron  in  August, 
1817,  while  Mr.  Hobhouse  was  staying  with  him 
at  La  Mira,  near  Venice,  given  to  Mr.  Matthew 
Gregory  Lewis,  for  circulation  among  friends  in 
England,  found  in  Mr.  Lewis's  papers  after  his 
death,  and  now  in  the  possession  of  Mr,  Mur 
ray."  Here  it  is  :  — 


4O       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

"  It  has  been  intimated  to  me  that  the  persons  under 
stood  to  be  the  legal  advisers  of  Lady  Byron  have  de 
clared  'their  lips  to  be  sealed  up'  on  the  cause  of  the 
separation  between  her  and  myself.  If  their  lips  are 
sealed  up,  they  are  not  sealed  up  by  me,  and  the  greatest 
favor  they  can  confer  upon  me  will  be  to  open  them. 
From  the  first  hour  in  which  I  was  apprised  of  the  inten 
tions  of  the  Noel  family  to  the  last  communication  be 
tween  Lady  Byron  and  myself  in  the  character  of  wife 
and  husband  (a  period  of  some  months),  I  called  repeat 
edly  and  in  vain  for  a  statement  of  their  or  her  charges, 
and  it  was  chiefly  in  consequence  of  Lady  Byron's  claim 
ing  (in  a  letter  still  existing)  a  promise  on  my  part  to 
consent  to  a  separation,  if  such  was  really  her  wish, 
that  I  consented  at  all ;  this  claim,  and  the  exasperating 
and  inexpiable  manner  in  which  their  object  was  pur 
sued,  which  rendered  it  next  to  an  impossibility  that 
two  persons  so  divided  could  ever  be  reunited,  induced 
me  reluctantly  then,  and  repentantly  still,  to  sign  the 
deed,  which  I  shall  be  happy  —  most  happy  —  to  cancel, 
and  go  before  any  tribunal  which  may  discuss  the  busi 
ness  in  the  most  public  manner. 

"  Mr.  Hobhouse  made  this  proposition  on  my  part, 
viz.  to  abrogate  all  prior  intentions  —  and  go  into  court 
—  the  very  day  before  the  separation  was  signed,  and 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.       4! 

it  was  declined  by  the  other  party,  as  also  the  publication 
of  the  correspondence  during  the  previous  discussion. 
Those  propositions  I  beg  here  to  repeat,  and  to  call 
upon  her  and  hers  to  say  their  worst,  pledging  myself 
to  meet  their  allegations, — whatever  they  may  be, — 
and  only  too  happy  to  be  informed  at  last  of  their  real 

nature. 

"  BYRON." 

"August  9,  1817. 

"  P.  S.  —  I  have  been,  and  am  now,  utterly  ignorant 
of  what  description  her  allegations,  charges,  or  what 
ever  name  they  may  have  assumed,  are ;  and  am  as 
little  aware  for  what  purpose  they  have  been  kept  back, 
—  unless  it  was  to  sanction  the  most  infamous  calumnies 

by  silence. 

"  BYRON. 
"  LA  MIRA,  near  VENICE." 

It  appears  the  circulation  of  this  document 
must  have  been  very  private,  since  Moore,  not 
0wr-delicate  towards  Lady  Byron,  did  not  think 
fit  to  print  it  ;  since  John  Murray  neglected  it, 
and  since  it  has  come  out  at  this  late  hour  for 
the  first  time. 

If  Lord  Byron  really  desired  Lady  Byron  and 


42       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

her  legal  counsel  to  understand  the  facts  herein 
stated,  and  was  willing  at  all  hazards  to  bring 
on  an  open  examination,  why  was  this  privately 
circulated  ?  Why  not  issued  as  a  card  in  the 
London  papers  ?  Is  it  likely  that  Mr.  Mat 
thew  Gregory  Lewis,  and  a  chosen  band  of 
friends  acting  as  a  committee,  requested  an 
audience  with  Lady  Byron,  Sir  Samuel  Romilly, 
and  Dr.  Lushington,  and  formally  presented  this 
cartel  of  defiance  ? 

We  incline  to  think  not.  We  incline  to 
think  that  this  small  serpent,  in  company 
with  many  others  of  like  kind,  crawled  secret 
ly  and  privately  around,  and  when  it  found  a 
good  chance,  bit  an  honest  Briton,  whose  blood 
was  thenceforth  poisoned  by  an  undetected  false 
hood. 

The  reader  now  may  turn  to  the  letters  that 
Mr.  Moore  has  thought  fit  to  give  us  of  this  stay 
at  La  Mira,  beginning  with  Letter  286,  dated 
July  I,  1817,*  where  he  says:  "I  have  been 

*  Vol.  IV.  p.  40. 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.        43 

working  up  my  impressions  into  a  Fourth  Canto 
of  Childe  Harold,"  and  also  "  Mr.  Lewis  is  in- 
Venice.  I  am  going  up  to  stay  a  week  with 
him  there." 

Next,  under  date  La  Mira,  Venice,  July  10,* 
he  says  :  "  Monk  Lewis  is  here  ;  how  pleasant ! " 

Next,  under  date  July  20,  1817,  to  Mr.  Mur 
ray  :  "  I  write  to  give  you  notice  that  I  have 
completed  tJie  fourth  and  ultimate  canto  of 
Childe  Harold.  ....  It  is  yet  to  be  copied  and 
polished,  and  the  notes  are  to  come." 

Under  date  of  La  Mira,  August  7,  1817,  he 
records  that  the  new  canto  is  one  hundred  and 
thirty  stanzas  in  length,  and  talks  about  the  price 
for  it.  He  is  now  ready  to  launch  it  on  the  world  ; 
and,  as  now  appears,  on  August  9,  1817,  two  days 
after,  he  wrote  the  document  above  cited,  and  put 
it  into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Lewis,  as  we  are  informed, 
"for  circulation  among  friends  in  England." 

The  reason  of  this  may  now  be  evident.  Hav 
ing  prepared  a  suitable  number  of  those  whom 

*  Vol.  IV.  p.  46. 


44       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

he  calls  in  his  notes  to  Murray  "  the  initiated,'* 
by  private  documents  and  statements,  he  is  now 
prepared  to  publish  his  accusations  against  his 
wife,  and  the  story  of  his  wrongs,  in  a  great  im 
mortal  poem,  which  shall  have  a  band  of  initiated 
interpreters,  shall  be  read  through  the  civilized 
world,  and  stand  to  accuse  her  after  his  death. 

In  the  Fourth  Canto  of  "Childe  Harold,"  with 
all  his  own  overwhelming  power  of  language,  he 
sets  forth  his  cause  as  against  the  silent  woman 
who  all  this  time  had  been  making  no  party,  and 
telling  no  story,  and  whom  the  world  would  there 
fore  conclude  to  be  silent  because  she  had  no 
answer  to  make.  I  remember  well  the  time  when 
this  poetry,  so  resounding  in  its  music,  so  mourn 
ful,  so  apparently  generous,  filled  my  heart  with 
a  vague  anguish  of  sorrow  for  the  sufferer,  and 
of  indignation  at  the  cold  insensibility  that  had 
maddened  him.  Thousands  have  felt  the  power 
of  this  great  poem,  which  stands,  and  must  stand 
to  all  time,  a  monument  of  what  sacred  and 
solemn  powers  God  gave  to  this  wicked  man, 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.       45 

and  how  vilely  he  abused  this  power  as  a  weapon 
to  slay  the  innocent. 

It  is  among  the  ruins  of  ancient  Rome 
that  his  voice  breaks  forth  in  solemn  impre 
cation  :  — 

"  O  Time,  thou  beautifier  of  the  dead, 
Adorner  of  the  ruin,  comforter, 
And  only  healer  when  the  heart  hath  bled  ! 
Time,  the  corrector  when  our  judgments  err, 
The  test  of  truth,  love,  —  sole  philosopher, 
For  all  besides  are  sophists,  —  from  thy  shrift 
That  never  loses,  though  it  doth  defer  ! 
Time,  the  avenger !  unto  thee  I  lift 

My  hands  and  heart  and  eyes,  and  claim  of  thee  a  gift. 

"  If  thou  hast  ever  seen  me  too  elate, 
Hear  me  not ;  but  if  calmly  I  have  borne 
Good,  and  reserved  my  pride  against  the  hate 
Which  shall  not  whelm  me,  let  me  not  have  worn 
This   iron    in    my   soul   in    vain,  —  shall  THEY    not 

mourn  ? 

And  thou  who  never  yet  of  human  wrong 
Left  the  unbalanced  scale,  great  Nemesis, 
Here  where  the  ancients  paid  their  worship  long, 


46       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

Thou  who  didst  call  the  Furies  from  the  abyss, 

And  round  Orestes  bid  them  howl  and  hiss 

For  that  unnatural  retribution,  — just 

Had  it  but  come  from  hands  less  near,  —  in  this 

Thy  former  realm  I  call  thee  from  the  dust. 

Dost  thou  not  hear  my  heart  ?  awake  thou  shalt  and 

must ! 

Jt  is  not  that  I  may  not  have  incurred 
For  my  ancestral  faults,  and  mine  the  wound 
Wherewith  I  bleed  withal,  and  had  it  been  conferred 
With  a  just  weapon  it  had  flowed  unbound, 
But  now  my  blood  shall  not  sink  in  the  ground. 

"  But  in  this  page  a  record  will  I  seek  ; 
Not  in  the  air  shall  these  my  words  disperse, 
Though  I  be  ashes,  —  a  far  hour  shall  wreak 
The  deep  prophetic  fulness  of  this  verse, 
And  pile  on  human  heads  the  mountain  of  my  curse. 
That  curse  shall  be  forgiveness.     Have  I  not,  — 
Hear  me,  my  Mother  Earth  !  behold  it,  Heaven,  — 
Have  I  not  had  to  wrestle  with  my  lot  ? 
Have  I  not  suffered  things  to  be  forgiven  ? 
Have  I  not  had  my  brain  seared,  my  heart  riven, 
Hopes  sapped,  name  blighted,  life's  life  lied  away, 
And  only  not  to  desperation  driven, 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

Because  not  altogether  of  such  clay 

As  rots  into  the  soul  of  those  whom  I  survey  ? 


"  From  mighty  wrongs  to  petty  perfidy, 
Have  I  not  seen  what  human  things  could  do,  — 
From  the  loud  roar  of  foaming  calumny, 
To  the  small  whispers  of  the  paltry  few, 
And  subtler  venom  of  the  reptile  crew, 
The  Janus  glance  of  whose  significant  eye. 
Learning  to  lie  with  silence,  would  seem  true, 
And  without  utterance,  save  the  shrug  or  sigh, 
Deal  round  to  happy  fools  its  speechless  obloquy  ?  "  * 

The  reader  will  please  notice  that  the  lines  in 
italics  are  almost,  word  for  word,  a  repetition  of 
the  lines  in  italics  in  the  former  poem  on  his 
wife,  where  he  speaks  of  a  significant  eye  that 
has  learned  to  lie  in  silence,  and  were  evidently 
meant  to  apply  to  Lady  Byron  and  her  small 
circle  of  confidential  friends. 

Before  this,  in  the  Third  Canto  of  "Childe 
Harold,"  he  had  claimed  the  sympathy  of  the 

*  The  italics  are  mine. 


48       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

world,  as  a  loving  father,  deprived  by  a  severe 
fate  of  the  solace  and  society  of  his  only  child:  — 

"  My  daughter,  —  with  this  name  my  song  began,  — 
My  daughter,  —  with  this  name  my  song  shall  end,  — 
I  see  thee  not  and  hear  thee  not,  but  none 
Can  be  so  wrapped  in  thee  ;  thou  art  the  friend 
To  whom  the  shadows  of  far  years  extend. 

"To  aid  thy  mind's  developments,  to -watch 
The  dawn  of  little  joys,  to  sit  and  see 
Almost  thy  very  growth,  to  view  thee  catch 
Knowledge  of  objects,  —  wonders  yet  to  thee, — 
And  print  on  thy  soft  cheek  a  parent's  kiss, — 
This  it  should  seem  was  not  reserved  for  me. 
Yet  this  was  in  my  nature,  —  as  it  is, 
I  know  not  what  there  is,  yet  something  like  to  this. 


"  Yet  though  dull  hate  as  duty  should  be  taught, 
I  know  that  thou  wilt  love  me  ;  though  my  name 
Should  be  shut  out  from  thee  as  spell  still  fraught 
With  desolation  and  a  broken  claim, 
Though  the  grave  close  between  us,  —  't  were  the  same. 
I  know  that  thou  wilt  love  me,  though  to  drain 
My  blood  from  out  thy  being  were  an  aim 
And  an  attainment,  —  all  will  be  in  vain." 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.       49 

To  all  these  charges  against  her,  sent  all  over 
the  world  in  verses  as  eloquent  as  the  English 
language  is  capable  of,  the  wife  replied  noth 
ing.  'As  a  lamb  before  her  shearers  is  dumb, 
so  she  opened  not  her  mouth.' 

"  Assailed  by  slander  and  the  tongue  of  strife, 
Her  only  answer  was,  —  a  blameless  life." 

She  had  a  few  friends,  a  very  few,  with  whom 
she  sought  solace  and  sympathy.  One  letter 
from  her,  written  at  this  time,  preserved  by  acci 
dent,  is  the  only  authentic  record  of  how  the 
matter  stood  with  her. 

We  regret  to  say  that  the  publication  of  this 
document  was  not  brought  forth  to  clear  Lady 
Byron's  name  from  her  husband's  slanders,  but 
to  shield  him  from  the  worst  accusation  against 
him,  by  showing  that  this  crime  was  not  in 
cluded  in  the  few  private  confidential  revela- 
•tions  that  friendship  wrung  from  the  young 
wife  at  this  period. 

Lady  Anne  Barnard,  authoress  of  "Auld 
Robin  Grey,"  a  friend,  whose  age  and  experience 
3 


5O       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

made  her  a  proper  confidant,  sent  for  the 
broken-hearted,  perplexed  wife,  and  offered  her 
a  woman's  sympathy. 

To  her  Lady  Byron  wrote  many  letters,  under 
seal  of  confidence,  and  Lady  Anne  says  :  "  I  will 
give  you  a  few  paragraphs  transcribed  from  one 
of  Lady  Byron's  own  letters  to  me.  It  is  sor 
rowful  to  think  that  in  a  very  little  time  this 
young  and  amiable  creature,  wise,  patient,  and 
feeling,  will  have  her  character  mistaken  by 
every  one  who  reads  Byron's  works.  To  rescue 
her  from  this  I  preserved  her  letters,  and  when 
she  afterwards  expressed  a  fear  that  anything 
of  her  writing  should  ever  fall  into  hands  to  in 
jure  him  (I  suppose  she  meant  by  publication), 
I  safely  assured  her  that  it  never  should.  But 
here  this  letter  shall  be  placed,  a  sacred  rec 
ord  in  her  favor,  unknown  to  herself." 

"  I  am  a  very  incompetent  judge  of  the  impression 
which  the  last  Canto  of  '  Childe  Harold '  may  produce  on 
the  minds  of  indifferent  readers. 

"  It  contains  the  usual  trace  of  a  conscience  restlessly 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.       $1 

awake,  though  his  object  has  been  too  long  to  aggra 
vate  its  burden,  as  if  it  could  thus  be  oppressed  into 
eternal  stupor.  I  will  hope,  as  you  do,  that  it  survives 
for  his  ultimate  good. 

"  It  was  the  acuteness  of  his  remorse,  impenitent  in 
its  character,  which  so  long  seemed  to  demand  from 
my  compassion  to  spare  every  semblance  of  reproach, 
every  look  of  grief,  which  might  have  said  to  his  con 
science,  *  You  have  made  me  wretched.' 

"  I  am  decidedly  of  opinion  that  he  is  responsible.  He 
has  wished  to  be  thought  partially  deranged,  or  on  the 
brink  of  it,  to  perplex  observers  and  prevent  them  from 
tracing  effects  to  their  real  causes  through  all  the  intrica 
cies  of  his  conduct.  I  was,  as  I  told  you,  at  one  time  the 
dupe  of  his  acted  insanity,  and  clung  to  the  former 
delusions  in  regard  to  the  motives  that  concerned  me 
personally,  till  the  whole  system  was  laid  bare. 

"  He  is  the  absolute  monarch  of  words,  and  uses 
them,  as  Bonaparte  did  lives,  for  conquest,  without  more 
regard  to  their  intrinsic  value,  considering  them  only 
as  ciphers,  which  must  derive  all  their  import  from  the 
situation  in  which  he  places  them,  and  the  ends  to 
which  he  adapts  them,  with  such  consummate  skill. 

u  Why,  then,  you  will  say,  does  he  not  employ  them 
to  give  a  better  color  to  his  own  character  ?  Because 


52       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

he  is  too  good  an  actor  to  over-act,  or  to  assume  a 
moral  garb,  which  it  would  be  easy  to  strip  off. 

"  In  regard  to  his  poetry,  egotism  is  the  vital  princi 
ple  of  his  imagination,  which  it  is  difficult  for  him  to 
kindle  on  any  subject  with  which  his  own  character 
and  interests  are  not  identified ;  but  by  the  introduction 
of  fictitious  incidents,  by  change  of  scene  or  time,  he 
has  enveloped  his  poetical  disclosures  in  a  system  impen 
etrable  except  to  a  very  few,  and  his  constant  desire 
of  creating  a  sensation  makes  him  not  averse  to  be  the 
object  of  wonder  and  curiosity,  even  though  accompanied 
by  some  dark  and  vague  suspicions. 

"  Nothing  has  contributed  more  to  the  misunderstand 
ing  of  his  real  character  than  the  lonely  grandeur  in 
which  he  shrouds  it,  and  his  affectation  of  being  above 
mankind,  when  he  exists  almost  in  their  voice.  The 
romance  of  his  sentiments  is  another  feature  of  this 
mask  of  state.  I  know  no  one  more  habitually  destitute 
of  that  enthusiasm  he  so  beautifully  expresses,  and  to 
which  he  can  work  up  his  fancy  chiefly  by  contagion. 

"  /  had  heard  he  was  the  best  of  brothers,  the  most 
generous  of  friends,  and  I  thought  such  feelings  only 
required  to  be  warmed  and  cherished  into  more  diffusive 
benevolence.  Though  these  opinions  are  eradicated,  and 
could  never  return  but  with  the  decay  of  my  memory. 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.       53 

you  will  not  wonder  if  there  are  still  moments  when 
the  association  of  feelings  which  arose  from  them  soften 
and  sadden  my  thoughts. 

"  But  I  have  not  thanked  you,  dearest  Lady  Anne, 
for  your  kindness  in  regard  to  a  principal  object,  —  that 
of  rectifying  false  impressions.  I  trust  you  understand 
my  wishes,  which  never  were  to  injure  Lord  Byron  in 
any  way  ;  for,  though  he  would  not  suffer  me  to  re7nain 
his  wife,  he  cannot  prevent  me  from  continuing  his  friend; 
and  it  was  from  considering  myself  as  such  that  I  silenced 
the  accusations  by  which  my  own  conduct  might  have 
been  more  fully  justified. 

"  It  is  not  necessary  to  speak  ill  of  his  heart  in  gen 
eral  ;  it  is  sufficient  that  to  me  it  was  hard  and  impen 
etrable,  —  that  my  own  must  have  been  broken  before 
his  could  have  been  touched.  I  would  rather  represent 
this  as  my  misfortune  than  as  his  guilt ;  but,  surely, 
that  misfortune  is  not  to  be  made  my  crime  !  Such 
are  my  feelings  ;  you  will  ju&ge  how  to  act. 

"  His  allusions  to  me  in  «  Childe  Harold'  are  cruel  and 
cold,  but  with  such  a  semblance  as  to  make  me  appear 
so,  and  to  attract  all  sympathy  to  himself.  It  is  said 
in  this  poem  that  hatred  of  him  will  be  taught  as  a 
lesson  to  his  child.  I  might  appeal  to  all  who  have  ever 
heard  me  speak  of  him,  and  still  more  to  my  own  heart, 


54       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

to  witness  that  there  has  been  no  moment  when  I  have 
remembered  injury  otherwise  than  affectionately  and 
sorrowfully. 

"It  is  not  my  duty  to  give  way  to  hopeless  and  wholly 
unrequited  affection  ;  but,  so  long  as  I  live,  my  chief 
struggle  will  probably  be  not  to  remember  him  too 
kindly.  I  do  not  seek  the  sympathy  of  the  world,  but 
I  wish  to  be  known  by  those  whose  opinion  is  valuable 
and  whose  kindness  is  dear  to  me.  Among  such,  my 
dear  Lady  Anne,  you  will  ever  be  remembered  by  your 

truly  affectionate 

"A.  BYRON." 

On  this  letter  I  observe  Lord  Lindsay  remarks 
that  it  shows  a  noble  but  rather  severe  charac 
ter,  and  a  recent  author  has  remarked  that  it 
seemed  to  be  written  rather  in  a  "  cold  spirit  of 
criticism."  It  seems  to  strike  these  gentlemen  as 
singular  that  Lady  Byron  did  not  enjoy  the  poem  ! 
But  there  are  two  remarkable  sentences  in  this 
letter  which  have  escaped  the  critics  hitherto. 
Lord  Byron,  in  this,  the  Third  Canto  of  "  Childe 
Harold,"  expresses  in  most  affecting  words  an 
enthusiasm  of  love  for  his  sister.  So  long  as  he 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.       55 

lived  he  was  her  faithful  correspondent  ;  he  sent 
her  his  journals  ;  and,  dying,  he  left  her  and  her 
children  everything  he  had  in  the  world.  This 
certainly  seems  like  an  affectionate  brother ;  but 
in  what  words  does  Lady  Byron  speak  of  this 
affection  ? 

"  I  had  heard  he  was  the  best  of  brothers, 
the  most  generous  of  friends.  I  thought  these 
feelings  only  required  to  be  warmed  and  cherished 
into  more  diffusive  benevolence.  THESE  OPINIONS 

ARE  ERADICATED,  AND  COULD  NEVER  RETURN  BUT 

WITH  THE  DECAY  OF  MEMORY."  Let  me  ask  those 
who  give  this  letter  as  a  proof  that  at  this  time  no 
idea  such  as  I  have  stated  was  in  Lady  Byron's 
mind,  to  account  for  these  words.  Let  them  please 
answer  these  questions  :  Why  had  Lady  Byron 
ceased  to  think  him  a  good  brother  ?  Why  does 
she  use  so  strong  a  word  as  that  the  opinion  was 
eradicated,  torn  up  by  the  roots,  and  could 
never  grow  again  in  her  except  by  decay  of 
memory  ? 

And  yet  this   is  a  document    Lord    Lindsay 


56       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

vouches  for  as  authentic,  and  which  he  brings 
forward  in  defence  of  Lord  Byron. 

Again  she  says,  "  Though  he  wotild  not  suffer 
me  to  remain  his  wife,  he  cannot  prevent  me 
from  continuing  his  friend."  Do  these  words  not 
say  that  in  some  past  time,  in  some  decided 
manner,  Lord  Byron  had  declared  to  her  his 
rejection  of  her  as  a  wife  ?  I  shall  yet  have 
occasion  to  explain  these  words. 

Again  she  says,  "  I  silenced  accusations  by 
which  my  conduct  might  have  been  more  fully 
justified." 

The  people  in  England  who  are  so  very  busy 
in  searching  out  evidence  against  my  true  story 
have  searched  out  and  given  to  the  world  an 
important  confirmation  of  this  assertion  of  Lady 
Byron's. 

It  seems  that  the  confidential  waiting-maid 
who  went  with  Lady  Byron  on  her  wedding 
journey  has  been  sought  out  and  interrogated, 
and,  as  appears  by  description,  is  a  venerable, 
respectable  old  person,  quite  in  possession  of  all 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.       57 

her  senses  in  general,  and  of  that  sixth  sense 
of  propriety  in  particular,  which  appears  not  to 
be  a  common  virtue  in  our  days. 

As  her  testimony  is  important,  we  insert  it 
just  here,  with  a  description  of  her  person  in 
full.  The  ardent  investigators  thus  speak :  — 

"  Having  gained  admission,  we  were  shown  into  a 
small  but  neatly  furnished  and  scrupulously  clean  apart 
ment,  where  sat  the  object  of  our  visit.  Mrs.  Minns  is 
a  venerable-looking  old  lady,  of  short  stature,  slight  and 
active  appearance,  with  a  singularly  bright  and  intelli 
gent  countenance.  Although  midway  between  eighty  and 
ninety  years  of  age,  she  is  in  full  possession  of  her  fac 
ulties,  discourses  freely  and  cheerfully,  hears  apparently 
as  well  as  ever  she  did,  and  her  sight  is  so  good  that, 
aided  by  a  pair  of  spectacles,  she  reads  the  Chronicle 
every  day  with  ease.  Some  idea  of  her  competency  to 
contribute  valuable  evidence  to  the  subject  which  now 
so  much  engages  public  attention  on  three  continents 
may  be  found  from  her  own  narrative  of  her  personal 
relations  with  Lady  Byron.  Mrs.  Minns  was  born  in 
the  neighborhood  of  Seaham,  and  knew  Lady  Byron 
from  childhood.  During  the  long  period  of  ten  years 
she  was  Miss  Milbanke's  lady's-maid,  and  in  that 
3* 


58       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

capacity  became  the  close  confidante  of  her  mistress. 
There  were  circumstances  which  rendered  their  relation 
ship  peculiarly  intimate.  Miss  Milbanke  had  no  sister 
or  female  friend  to  whom  she  was  bound  by  the  ties  of 
more  than  a  common  affection  ;  and  her  mother,  whatever 
other  excellent  qualities  she  may  have  possessed,  was 
too  high-spirited  and  too  hasty  in  temper  to  attract  the 
sympathies  of  the  young.  Some  months  before  Miss 
Milbanke  was  married  to  Lord  Byron  Mrs.  Minns  had 
quitted  her  service  on  the  occasion  of  her  own  marriage 
with  Mr.  Minns,  but  she  continued  to  reside  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Seaham,  and  remained  on  the  most 
friendly  terms  with  her  former  mistress.  As  the  court 
ship  proceeded,  Miss  Milbanke  concealed  nothing  from 
her  faithful  attendant,  and  when  the  wedding-day  was 
fixed  she  begged  Mrs.  Minns  to  return  and  fulfil  the 
duties  of  lady's-maid,  at  least  during  the  honeymoon. 
Mrs.  Minns  at  the  time  was  nursing  her  first  child,  and 
it  was  no  small  sacrifice  to  quit  her  own  home  at  such 
a  moment,  but  she  could  not  refuse  her  old  mistress's 
request.  Accordingly,  she  returned  to  Seaham  Hall 
some  days  before  the  wedding,  was  present  at  the 
ceremony,  and  then  preceded  Lord  and  Lady  Byron  to 
Halnaby  Hall,  near  Croft,  in  the  North  Riding  of 
Yorkshire,  one  of  Sir  Ralph  Milbanke's  seats,  where 


THE    ATTACK    ON    LADY    BYRON.  59 

the  newly  married  couple  were  to  spend  the  honeymoon. 
Mrs.  Minns  remained  with  Lord  and  Lady  Byron  during 
the  three  weeks  they  spent  at  Halnaby  Hall,  and  then 
accompanied  them  to  Seaham,  where  they  spent  the 
next  six  weeks.  It  was  during  the  latter  period  that 
she  finally  quitted  Lady  Byron's  service,  but  she  re 
mained  in  the  most  friendly  communication  with  her 
Ladyship  till  the  death  of  the  latter,  and  for  some  time 
was  living  in  the  neighborhood  of  Lady  Byron's  resi 
dence  in  Leicestershire,  where  she  had  frequent  oppor 
tunities  of  seeing  her  former  mistress.  It  may  be  added 
that  Lady  Byron  was  not  unmindful  of  the  faithful 
services  of  her  friend  and  attendant  in  the  instruc 
tions  to  her  executors  contained  in  her  will.  Such 
was  the  position  of  Mrs.  Minns  towards  Lady  Byron, 
and  we  think  no  one  will  question  that  it  was  of  a 
nature  to  entitle  all  that  Mrs.  Minns  may  say  on  the 
subject  of  the  relations  of  Lord  and  Lady  Byron  to 
the  most  respectful  consideration  and  credit." 

Such  is  the  chronicler's  account  of  the  faithful 
creature,  whom  nothing  but  intense  indignation 
and  disgust  at  Mrs.  Beecher  Stowe  would  lead  to 
speak  on  her  mistress's  affairs  ;  but  Mrs.  Beecher 


6O       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

Stowe  feels  none  the  less  sincere  respect  for  her, 
and  is  none  the  less  obliged  to  her  for  having 
spoken.  Much  of  Mrs.  Minns's  testimony  will 
be  referred  to  in  another  place  ;  we  only  extract 
one  passage,  to  show  that  while  Lord  Byron 
spent  his  time  in  setting  afloat  slanders  against 
his  wife,  she  spent  hers  in  sealing  the  mouths  of 
witnesses  against  him. 

Of  the  period  of  the  honeymoon  Mrs.  Minns 
says  :  — 

"The  happiness  of  Lady  Byron,  however,  was  of  brief 
duration  ;  even  during  the  short  three  weeks  they  spent 
at  Halnaby  the  irregularities  of  Lord  Byron  occasioned 
her  the  greatest  distress,  and  she  even  contemplated  re 
turning  to  her  father.  Mrs.  Minns  was  her  constant 
companion  and  confidante  through  this  painful  period, 
and  she  does  not  believe  that  her  ladyship  concealed  a 
thought  from  her.  With  laudable  reticence,  the  old  lady 
absolutely  refuses  to  disclose  the  particulars  of  Lord 
Byron 's  misconduct  at  this  time  j  she  gave  Lady  Byron 
a  solemn  promise  not  to  do  so. 

"  So  serious  did  Mrs.  Minns  consider  the  conduct  of 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.       6 1 

Lord  Byron,  that  she  recommended  her  mistress  to  confide 
all  the  circumstances  to  her  father,  Sir  Ralph  Milbanke,  a 
calm,  kind,  and  most  excellent  parent,  and  take  his  advice 
as  to  her  future  course.  At  one  time  Mrs.  Minns  thinks 
Lady  Byron  had  resolved  to  follow  her  counsel  and  im 
part  her  wrongs  to  Sir  Ralph  ;  but  on  arriving  at  Seaham 
Hall  her  ladyship  strictly  enjoined  Mrs.  Minns  to  pre 
serve  absolute  silence  on  the  subject,  —  a  course  which 
she  followed  herself,  —  so  that  when,  six  weeks  later,  she 
and  Lord  Byron  left  Seaham  for  London,  not  a  word  had 
escaped  her  to  disturb  her  parents'  tranquillity  as  to  their 
daughter's  domestic  happiness.  As  might  be  expected, 
Mrs.  Minns  bears  the  warmest  testimony  to  the  noble  and 
lovable  qualities  of  her  departed  mistress.  She  also 
declares  that  Lady  Byron  was  by  no  means  of  a  cold 
temperament,  but  that  the  affectionate  impulses  of  her 
nature  were  checked  by  the  unkind  treatment  she  ex 
perienced  from  her  husband." 

We  have  already  shown  that  Lord  Byron  had 
been,  ever  since  his  separation,  engaged  in  a 
systematic  attempt  to  reverse  the  judgment  of 
the  world  against  himself,  by  making  converts 
of  all  his  friends  to  a  most  odious  view  of  his 


62       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

wife's  character,  and  inspiring  them  with  the  zeal 
of  propagandists  to  spread  these  views  through 
society.  We  have  seen  how  he  prepared  par 
tisans  to  interpret  the  Fourth  Canto  of  "  Childe 
Harold." 

This  plan  of  solemn  and  heroic  accusation  was 
the  first  public  attack  on  his  wife.  Next  we  see 
him  commencing  a  scurrilous  attempt  to  turn 
her  to  ridicule  in  the  First  Canto  of  "  Don  Juan." 

It  is  to  our  point  now  to  show  how  carefully 
and  cautiously  this  Don  Juan  campaign  was 
planned. 

Vol.  IV.  p.   138,  we   find   Letter   325  to  Mr. 

Murray  :  — 

"VENICE,  January  25,  1819. 

"  You  will  do  me  the  favor  to  print  privately,  for 
Private  distribution,  fifty  copies  of  '  Don  Juan?  The 
list  of  the  men  to  whom  1  wish  it  presented  I  will 
send  hereafter." 

The  poem,  as  will  be  remembered,  begins 
with  the  meanest  and  foulest  attack  on  his 
wife  that  ever  ribald  wrote,  and  put  it  in  close 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.        63 

neighborhood  with  scenes  which  every  pure 
man  or  woman  must  feel  to  be  the  beastly  utter 
ances  of  a  man  who  had  lost  all  sense  of  decency. 
Such  a  potion  was  too  strong  to  be  administered 
even  in  a  time  when  great  license  was  allowed,  and 
men  were  not  over-nice.  But  Byron  chooses  fifty 
armor-bearers  of  that  class  of  men  who  would  find 
indecent  ribaldry  about  a  wife  a  good  joke,  and 
talk  about  the  "  artistic  merits  "  of  things  which 
we  hope  would  make  an  honest  boy  blush. 

At  this  time  he  acknowledges  that  his  vices 
had  brought  him  to  a  state  of  great  exhaustion, 
attended  by  such  debility  of  the  stomach  that 
nothing  remained  on  it ;  and  adds,  "  I  was 
obliged  to  reform  my  way  of  life,  which  was 
conducting  me  from  the  yellow  leaf  to  the 
ground  with  all  deliberate  speed."  *  But  as  his 
health  is  a  little  better  he  employs  it  in  making 
the  way  to  death  and  hell  elegantly  easy  for  other 
young  men,  by  breaking  down  the  remaining 
scruples  of  a  society  not  over-scrupulous. 
*  Vol.  IV.  p.  143. 


64       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

Society  revolted,  however,  and  fought  stout 
ly  against  the  nauseous  dose.  Even  his  sister 
wrote  to  him  that  she  heard  such  things  said 
of  it  that  she  never  would  read  it  ;  and  the 
outcry  against  it  on  the  part  of  all  women  of 
his  acquaintance  was  such  that  for  a  time  he 
was  quite  overborne ;  and  the  Countess  Guic- 
cioli  finally  extorted  a  promise  from  him  to 
cease  writing  it.  Nevertheless,  there  came  a 
time  when  England  accepted  "  Don  Juan,"  — 
when  Wilson,  in  the  Noctes  Ambrosianse,  praised 
it  as  a  classic,  and  took  every  opportunity  to 
reprobate  Lady  Byron's  conduct.  When  first 
it  appeared  the  Blackwood  came  out  with 
that  indignant  denunciation  of  which  we  have 
spoken,  and  to  which  Byron  replied  in  the 
extracts  we  have  already  quoted.  He  did 
something  more  than  reply.  He  marked  out 
Wilson  as  one  of  the  strongest  literary  men 
of  the  day,  and  set  his  "  initiated  "  with  their 
documents  to  work  upon  him. 

One    of    these    documents    to   which    he   re- 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.       65 

quested  Wilson's  attention  was  the  private  au 
tobiography,  written  expressly  to  give  his  own 
story  of  all  the  facts  of  the  marriage  and  sep 
aration. 

In  the  indignant  letter  he  writes  Murray 
on  the  Blackwood  article,  Vol.  IV.  Letter 
350,  —  under  date  December  10,  1819,  —  he 
says  :  — 

"  I  sent  home  for  Moore,  and  for  Moore  only  (who 
has  my  journal  also),  my  memoir  written  up  to  1816, 
and  I  gave  him  leave  to  show  it  to  whom  he  pleased, 
but  not  to  publish  on  any  account  You  may  read  it, 
and  you  may  let  Wilson  read  it  if  he  likes,  —  not  for 
his  public  opinion,  but  his  private,  for  I  like  the  man, 
and  care  very  little  about  the  magazine. .  And  I  could 
wish  Lady  Byron  herself  to  read  it,  that  she  may  have 
it  in  her  power  to  mark  anything  mistaken  or  mis 
stated.  As  it  will  never  appear  till  after  my  extinction,  it 
would  be  but  fair  she  should  see  it ;  that  is  to  say,  her 
self  willing.  Your  Blackwood  accuses  me  of  treating 
women  harshly ;  but  I  have  been  their  martyr ;  my 
whole  life  has  been  sacrificed  to  them  and  by  them." 

It  was   a   part   of    Byron's   policy    to    place 


66       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

Lady  Byron  in  positions  before  the  world 
where  she  could  not  speak,  and  where  her 
silence  would  be  set  down  to  her  as  haughty, 
stony  indifference  and  obstinacy.  Such  was 
the  pretended  negotiation  through  Madame  de 
Stael,  and  such  now  this  apparently  fair  and 
generous  offer  to  let  Lady  Byron  see  and  mark 
this  manuscript. 

The  little  Ada  is  now  in  her  fifth  year, — 
a  child  of  singular  sensibility  and  remarkable 
mental  powers,  —  one  of  those  exceptional  chil 
dren  who  are  so  perilous  a  charge  for  a  mother. 

Her  husband  proposes  this  artful  snare  to 
her,  —  that  she  shall  mark  what  is  false  in  a 
statement  which  is  all  built  on  a  damning 
lie,  that  she  cannot  refute  over  that  daughter's 
head,  —  and  which  would  perhaps  be  her  ruin 
to  discuss. 

Hence  came  an  addition  of  two  more  docu 
ments,  to  be  used  "privately  among  friends,"11 

*  Lord  Byron  took  especial  pains  to  point  out  to  Murray 
the  importance  of  these  two  letters.  Vol.  V.  Letter  443,  he 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.       6/ 

and  which  Blackwood  uses  after  Lady  Byron 
is  safely  out  of  the  world  to  cast  ignominy  on 
her  grave, — the  wife's  letter,  that  of  a  mother 
standing  at  bay  for  her  daughter,  knowing  that 
she  is  dealing  with  a  desperate,  powerful,  un 
scrupulous  enemy. 

"  KIRKBY  MALLORY,  March  10,  1820. 

"  I  received  your  letter  of  January  i,  offering  to  my 
perusal  a  Memoir  of  part  of  your  life.  I  decline  to  in 
spect  it.  I  consider  the  publication  or  circulation  of 
such  a  composition  at  any  time  as  prejudicial  to  Ada's 
future  happiness.  For  my  own  sake,  I  have  no  reason 
to  shrink  from  publication ;  but,  notwithstanding  the 
injuries  which  I  have  suffered,  I  should  lament  some 

of  the  consequences. 

"A.  BYRON. 
"To  LORD  BYRON." 

Lord  Byron,  writing  for  the  public,  as  is  his 
custom,  makes  reply  :  — 

says:  "You  must  also  have  Trom  Mr.  Moore  the  correspond 
ence  between  me  and  Lacly  B.,  to  whom  I  offered  a  sight 
of  all  that  concerns  herself  in  these  papers.  This  is  important. 
He  has  her  letter  and  my  answer." 


68       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

"  RAVENNA,  April  3,  1820. 

"  I  received  yesterday  your  answer,  dated  March  10. 
My  offer  was  an  honest  one,  and  surely  could  only  be 
construed  as  such,  even  by  the  most  malignant  casuistry. 
I  could  answer  you,  but  it  is  too  late,  and  it  is  not  worth 
while.  To  the  mysterious  menace  of  the  last  sentence, 
whatever  its  import  maybe, — and  I  cannot  pretend  to 
unriddle  it,  —  I  could  hardly  be  very  sensible  even  if  I 
understood  it,  as,  before  it  can  take  place,  I  shall  be 
where  'nothing  can  touch  him  further.'  ...  .1  advise 
you,  however,  to  anticipate  the  period  of  your  intention, 
for,  be  assured,  no  power  of  figures  can  avail  beyond  the 
present ;  and  if  it  could,  I  would  answer  with  the  Floren 
tine  :  — 

"  '  Ed  io,  che  posto  son  con  loro  in  croce 

e  certo 

La  fiera  moglie,  piii  ch'  altro,  mi  nuoce.'  * 

"  BYRON. 
"  To  LADY  BYRON." 

Two  things  are  very  evident  in  this  corre 
spondence.  Lady  Byron  intimates  that,  if  he 

"  And  I,  who  with  them  on  the  cross  am  placed, 

...         .         .         truly 

My  savage  wife,  more  than  aught  else,  doth  harm  me." 
InfernOy  Canto  XVI. ,  Longfellow's  translation. 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.       69 

publishes  his  story,  some  consequences  must  fol 
low  which  she  shall  regret. 

Lord  Byron  receives  this  as  a  threat,  and 
says  he  does  n't  understand  it.  But  directly 
after  he  says,  "  Before  IT  can  take  place,  I  shall 
be,"  &c. 

The  intimation  is  quite  clear.  He  does  un 
derstand  what  the  consequences  alluded  to  are. 
They  are  evidently  that  Lady  Byron  will  speak 
out  and  tell  her  story.  He  says  she  cannot 
do  this  till  after  he  is  dead,  and  then  he  shall 
not  care.  In  allusion  to  her  accuracy  as  to 
dates  and  figures,  he  says :  "  Be  assured  no 
power  of  figures  can  avail  beyond  this  pres 
ent  "  (life)  ;  and  then'  ironically  advises  her  to 
anticipate  the  period,  —  i.  e.  to  speak  out  while 
he  is  alive. 

In  Vol.  VI.  Letter  518,  which  Lord  Byron 
wrote  to  Lady  Byron,  but  did  not  send,  he 
says  :  "  I  burned  your  last  note  for  two  rea 
sons,  —  firstly,  because  it  was  written  in  a  style 
not  very  agreeable  ;  and,  secondly,  because  I 


7O       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

wished  to  take  your  word  without  documents, 
which  are  the  resources  of  worldly  and  •  sus 
picious  people." 

It  would  appear  from  this  that  there  was  a 
last  letter  of  Lady  Byron  to  her  husband, 
which  he  did  not  think  proper  to  keep  on 
hand,  or  show  to  the  "  initiated  "  with  his 
usual  unreserve  ;  that  this  letter  contained 
some  kind  of  pledge  for  which  he  preferred  to 
take  her  word,  without  documents. 

Each  reader  can  imagine  for  himself  what 
that  pledge  might  have  been  ;  but  from  the 
tenor  of  the  three  letters  we  should  infer  that 
it  was  a  promise  of  silence  for  his  lifetime,  on 
certain  conditions,  and  that  the  publication  of 
the  autobiography  would  violate  those  condi 
tions,  and  make  it  her  duty  to  speak  out. 

This  celebrated  autobiography  forms  so  con 
spicuous  a  figure  in  the  whole  history,  that 
the  reader  must  have  a  full  idea  of  it,  as  given 
by  Byron  himself,  in  Vol.  IV.  Letter  344,  to 
Murray :  — 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.       71 

"  I  gave  to  Moore,  who  is  gone  to  Rome,  my  life 
in  MS.,  —  in  seventy-eight  folio  sheets,  brought  down  to 

1816 Also  a   journal  kept  in  1814.      Neither  are 

for  publication  during  my  life,  but  when  I  am  cold  you 
may  do  what  you  please.  In  the  mean  time,  if  you  like 
to  read  them  you  may,  and  show  them  to  anybody  you 
like.  I  care  not " 

He  tells  him  also :  — 

"You  will  find  in  it  a  detailed  account  of  my  marriage 
and  its  consequences,  as  true  as  a  party  concerned  can 
make  such  an  account." 

Of  the  extent  to  which  this  autobiography 
was  circulated  we  have  the  following  testimony 
of  Shelton  Mackenzie,  in  notes  to  the  "  Noctes  " 
of  June,  1824. 

In  the  Noctes  Odoherty  says  :  — 

"  The  fact  is,  the  work  had  been  copied  for  the  private 
reading  of  a  great  lady  in  Florence." 

The  note  says  :  — 

"  The  great  lady  in  Florence,  for  whose  private  read 
ing  Byron's  autobiography  was  copied,  was  the  Countess 


72       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

of  Westmoreland Lady  Blessington  had  the  auto 
biography  in  her  possession  for  weeks,  and  confessed  to 
having  copied  every  line  of  it.  Moore  remonstrated, 
and  she  committed  her  copy  to  the  flames,  but  did  not 
tell  him  that  her  sister,  Mrs.  Home  Purvis,  now  Vis 
countess  of  Canterbury,  had  also  made  a  copy  !  .  .  .  . 
From  the  quantity  of  copy  I  have  seen,  —  and  others 
were-more  in  the  way  of  falling  in  with  it  than  myself, — 
I  surmise  that  at  least  half  a  dozen  copies  were  made, 
and  of  these  Jive  are  now  in  existence.  Some  particu 
lar  parts,  such  as  the  marriage  and  separation,  were 
copied  separately ;  but  I  think  there  cannot  be  less  than 
five  full  copies  yet  to  be  found." 

This  was  written  after  the  original  autobi 
ography  was  btirned. 

We  may  see  the  zeal  and  enthusiasm  of 
the  Byron  party,  —  copying  seventy-eight  folio 
sheets,  as  of  old  Christians  copied  the  Gos 
pels.  How  widely,  fully,  and  thoroughly,  thus, 
by  this  secret  process,  was  society  saturated 
with  Byron's  own  versions  of  the  story  that 
related  to  himself  and  wife  !  Against  her 
there  was  only  the  complaint  of  an  absolute 


.  THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.        ^3 

silence.  She  put  forth  no  statements,  no  docu 
ments  ;  had  no  party,  sealed  the  lips  of  her 
counsel,  and  even  of  her  servants ;  yet  she 
could  not  but  have  known,  from  time  to  time, 
how  thoroughly  and  strongly  this  web  of  min 
gled  truth  and  lies  was  being  meshed  around 
her  steps. 

From  the  time  that  Byron  first  saw  the  im 
portance  of  securing  Wilson  on  his  side,  and 
wrote  to  have  his  partisans  attend  to  him,  we 
may  date  an  entire  revolution  in  the  Black- 
wood.  It  became  Byron's  warmest  supporter, 
—  is  to  this  day  the  bitterest  accuser  of  his 
wife. 

Why  was  this  wonderful  silence  ?  It  appears 
by  Dr.  Lushington's  statements,  that,  when  Lady 
Byron  did  speak,  she  had  a  story  to  tell  that 
powerfully  affected  both  him  and  Romilly,  —  a 
story  supported  by  evidence  on  which  they  were 
willing  to  have  gone  to  public  trial.  Supposing, 
now,  she  had  imitated  Lord  Byron's  example, 
and,  avoiding  public  trial,  had  put  her  story  into 


74       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

private  circulation  ;  as  he  sent  "  Don  Juan  "  to 
fifty  confidential  friends,  suppose  she  had  sent  a 
written  statement  of  her  story  to  fifty  judges  as 
intelligent  as  the  two  that  had  heard  it ;  or  sup 
pose  she  had  confronted  his  autobiography  with 
her  own,  —  what  would  have  been  the  result  ? 

The  first  result  would  have  been  Mrs.  Leigh's 
utter  ruin.  The  world  may  finally  forgive  the 
man  of  genius  anything  ;  but  for  a  woman  there 
is  no  mercy  and  no  redemption. 

This  ruin  Lady  Byron  prevented  by  her  utter 
silence  and  great  self-command.  Mrs.  Leigh 
never  lost  position.  Lady  Byron  never  so  varied 
in  her  manner  toward  her  as  to  excite  the  sus 
picions  even  of  her  confidential  old  servant. 

To  protect  Mrs.  Leigh  effectually,  it  must  have 
been  necessary  to  continue  to  exclude  even  her 
own  mother  from  the  secret,  as  we  are  assured 
she  did  at  first  ;  for,  had  she  told  Lady  Milbanke, 
it  is  not  possible  that  so  high-spirited  a  woman 
could  have  restrained  herself  from  such  outward 
expressions  as  would  at  least  have  awakened  sus- 


THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON.        75 

picion.  There  was  no  resource  but  this  absolute 
silence. 

Lady  Blessington,  in  her  last  conversation 
with  Lord  Byron,  thus  describes  the  life  Lady 
Byron  was  leading.  She  speaks  of  her  as 
"wearing  away  her  youth  in  almost  monastic 
seclusion,  questioned  by  some,  appreciated  by 
few,  seeking  consolation  alone  in  the  discharge 
of  her  duties,  and  avoiding  all  external  demon 
strations  of  a  grief  that  her  pale  cheek  and 
solitary  existence  alone  were  vouchers  for."  * 

The  main  object  of  all  this  silence  may  be 
imagined,  if  we  remember  that  if  Lord  Byron 
had  not  died,  —  had  he  truly  and  deeply  re 
pented,  and  become  a  thoroughly  good  man, 
and  returned  to  England  to  pursue  a  course 
worthy  of  his  powers,  there  was  on  record 
neither  word  nor  deed  from  his  wife  to  stand 
in  his  way. 

His  PLACE  WAS  KEPT  IN  SOCIETY,  ready  for 
him  to  return  to  whenever  he  came  clothed 

*  Conversations,  p.  108. 


76       THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON. 

and  in  his  right  mind.  He  might  have  had 
the  heart  and  confidence  of  his  daughter  un 
shadowed  by  a  suspicion.  He  might  have  won 
the  reverence  of  the  great  and  good  in  his  own 
lands  and  all  lands.  That  hope,  which  was 
the  strong  support,  the  prayer  of  the  silent 
wife,  it  did  not  please  God  to  fulfil. 

Lord  Byron  died  a  worn-out  man  at  thirty- 
six.  But  the  bitter  seeds  he  had  sown  came 
up,  after  his  death,  in  a  harvest  of  thorns 
over  his  grave  ;  and  there  were  not  wanting 
hands  to  use  them  as  instruments  of  torture 
on  the  heart  of 'his  widow. 


\ 


CHAPTER    III. 

RESUME    OF    THE    CONSPIRACY. 

A /I  7E  have  traced  the  conspiracy  of  Lord 
Byron  against  his  wife  up  to  its  latest 
device.  That  the  reader's  mind  may  be  clear,  on 
the  points  of  the  process,  we  shall  now  briefly 
recapitulate  the  documents  in  the  order lof  time. 

I.  March  17,  1816. — While  negotiations  for 
separation  were  pending,  —  "  Fare  thce  well,  and 
if  forever r 

While  writing  these  pages,  we  have  received 
from  England  the  testimony  of  one  who  has  seen 
the  original  draught  of  that  "  Fare  thee  well." 
This  original  copy  had  evidently  been  subjected 
to  the  most  careful  and  acute  revision.  Scarcely 
two  lines  that  were  not  interlined,  scarcely  an 
adjective  that  was  not  exchanged  for  a  better ; 

77 


78  RESUME    OF    THE    CONSPIRACY. 

showing  that  the  noble  lord  was  not  so  far  over 
come  by  grief  as  to  have  forgotten  his  reputa 
tion.  (Found  its  way  to  the  public  prints 
through  the  imprudence  of  a  friend?} 

II.  March    29,    1816.  —  An    attack    on    Lady 
Byron's    old    governess    for    having    been    born 
poor,  for  being  homely,  and  for  having  unduly 
influenced  his  wife  against  him  ;   promising  that 
her  grave  should  be  a  fiery  bed,  &c.  ;  also  prais 
ing  his  wife's   perfect  and  remarkable  truthful 
ness  and  discernment,  that  made  it   impossible 
for  flattery  to  fool,  or  baseness  blind  her ;  but 
ascribing  all   his  woes   to   her  being  fooled  and 
blinded    by  this    same  governess.      (Found   its 
way   to    the    prints    by   the    imprudence    of    a 
friend?) 

III.  September,    1816.  —  Lines    on    hearing 
that  Lady  Byron  is  ill.    Calls  her  a  Clytemnestra, 
who  has  secretly  set  assassins  on  her  lord  ;  says 
she  is  a  mean,  treacherous,  deceitful  liar,  and  has 
entirely  departed  from   her  early  truth,  and  be 
come  the  most   unscrupulous  and  unprincipled 


RESUME    OF    THE    CONSPIRACY.  79 

of  women.  Never  printed  till  after  Lord  By 
ron's  death,  but  circulated  privately  among  the 
"  initiated" 

IV.  Aug.  9,  1817.  —  Gives  to  M.  G.  Lewis 
a  paper  for  circulation  among  friends  in 
England,  stating  that  what  he  most  wants  is 
public  investigation,  which  has  always  been 
denied  him;  and  daring  Lady  Byron  and  her 
counsel  to  come  out  publicly.  Found  in  M.  G. 
Lewis's  portfolio  after  his  death  ;  never  heard  of 
before,  except  among  the  "  initiated." 

Having  given  M.  G.  Lewis's  document  time 
to  work,  — 

January,  1818.  —  Gives  the  fourth  canto  of 
"  Childe  Harold  "  *  to  the  public. 

Jan.  25,  1819.  —  Sends  to  Murray  to  print  for 
private  circulation  among  the  "initiated"  the 
first  canto  of  "  Don  Juan." 

Is  nobly  and  severely  rebuked  for  this  insult 
to  his  wife  by  the  "  Blackwood,"  August,  1819. 

*  Murray's  edition  of  Byron's  works,  vol.  ii.  p.  189 ;  date  of  dedication 
to  Hobhouse,  Jan.  2,  1818. 


8O  RESUME   OF    THE    CONSPIRACY. 

October,  1819. — Gives  Moore  the  manu 
script  Autobiography,  with  leave  to  show  it  to 
whom  he  pleases,  and  print  it  after  his  death. 

Oct.  29,  1819,  vol.  iv.  letter  344.  —  Writes  to 
Murray,  that  he  may  read  all  this  Autobiogra 
phy,  and  show  it  to  anybody  he  likes. 

Dec.  10,  1819.  —  Writes  to  Murray  on  this 
article  in  "Blackwood"  against  "  Don  Juan  "  and 
himself,  which,  he  supposes  written  by  Wilson  ; 
sends  a  complimentary  message  to  Wilson,  and 
asks  him  to  read  his  Autobiography  sent  by 
Moore.  (Letter  350.) 

March  15,  1820.  —  Writes,  and  dedicates  to  I. 
Disraeli,  Esq.,  a  vindication  of  himself  in  reply 
to  the  "  Blackwood  "  on  "  Don  Juan,"  containing 
an  indignant  defence  of  his  own  conduct  in  rela 
tion  to  his  wife,  and  maintaining  that  he  never 
yet  has  had  an  opportunity  of  knowing  whereof 
he  has  been  accused  ;  accusing  Sir  S.  Romilly  of 
taking  his  retainer,  and  then  going  over  to  the 
adverse  part  ',  &c.  Printed  for  private  circula 
tion;  to  be  found  in  the  standard  English  edition 
of  Murray,  vol.  ix.  p.  57. 


RESUME    OF    THE    CONSPIRACY.  8 1 

To  this  condensed  account  of  Byron's  strategy 
we  must  add  the  crowning  stroke  of  policy 
which  transmitted  this  warfare  to  his  friends,  to 
be  continued  after  his  death. 

During  the  last  visit  Moore  made  him  in  Italy, 
and  just  before  Byron  presented  to  him  his 
Autobiography,  the  following  scene  occurred, 
as  narrated  by  Moore  (vol.  iv.  p.  221)  :  — 

"  The  chief  subject  of  conversation,  when  alone,  was  his 
marriage,  and  the  load  of  obloquy  which  it  had  brought  upon 
him.  He  was  most  anxious  to  know  the  worst  that  had  been 
alleged  of  his  conduct ;  and,  as  this  was  our  first  opportunity  of 
speaking  together  on  the  subject,  I  did  not  hesitate  to  put  his 
candor  most  searchingly  to  the  proof,  not  only  by  enumerating 
the  various  charges  I  had  heard  brought  against  him  by  others, 
but  by  specifying  such  portions  of  these  chai-ges  as  I  had  been 
inclined  to  think  not  incredible  myself. 

"  To  all  this  he  listened  with  patience,  and  answered  with 
the  most  unhesitating  frankness  ;  laughing  to  scorn  the  tales  of 
unmanly  outrage  related  of  him,  but  at  the  same  time  acknowl 
edging  that  there  had  been  in  his  conduct  but  too  much  to 
blame  and  regret,  and  stating  one  or  two  occasions  during  his 
domestic  life  when  he  had  been  irritated  into  letting  the  '  breath 
of  bitter  words '  escape  him,  .  .  .  which  he  now  evidently 


82  RESUME    OF    THE    CONSPIRACY. 

remembered  with  a  degree  of  remorse  and  pain  which  might 
well  have  entitled  them  to  be  forgotten  by  others. 

"  It  was,  at  the  same  time,  manifest,  that,  whatever  admis 
sions  he  might  be  inclined  to  make  respecting  his  own  delin 
quencies,  the  inordinate  measure  of  the  punishment  dealt  o^lt  to 
him  had  sunk  deeply  into  his  mind,  and,  with  the  usual  effect  of 
such  injustice,  drove  him  also  to  be  unjust  himself ;  so  nmch  so, 
indeed,  as  to  impute  to  the  quarter  to  which  he  now  traced  all  his 
ill  fate  a  feeling  of  fixed  hostility  to  himself,  which  would  not  rest, 
he  thought,  even  at  his  grave,  lut  contimte  to  persecute  his  memory 
as  it  was  now  imbittering  his  life.  So  strong  was  this  impression 
upon  him,  that,  during  one  of  our  few  intervals  of  seriousness, 
he  conjured  me  by  our  friendship,  if,  as  he  both  felt  and  hoped, 
I  should  survive  him,  not  to  let  unmerited  censure  settle  upon 
his  name." 

In  this  same  account,  page  218,  Moore  testi 
fies  that 

"  Lord  Byron  disliked  his  countrymen,  but  only  because  he 
knew  that  his  morals  were  held  in  contempt  by  them.  The 
English,  themselves  rigid  observers  of  family  duties,  could  not 
pardon  him  the  neglect  of  his,  nor  his  trampling  on  principles  : 
therefore  neither  did  he  like  being  presented  to  them,  nor  did 
they,  especially  when  they  had  wives  with  them,  like  to  cultivate 
his  acquaintance.  Still  there  was  a  strong  desire  in  all  of  them 
to  see  him ;  and  the  women  in  particular,  who  did  not  dare  to 


RESUME    OF    THE    CONSPIRACY.  83 

look  at  him  but  by  stealth,  said  in  an  under-voice,  '  What  a  pity 
it  is  !  '  If,  however,  any  of  his  compatriots  of  exalted  rank  and 
high  reputation  came  forward  to  treat  him  with  courtesy,  he 
showed  himself  obviously  flattered  by  it.  It  seemed,  that,  to 
the  wound  which  remained  open  in  his  ulcerated  heart,  such 
soothing  attentions  were  as  drops  of  healing  balm,  which  com 
forted  him." 

When  in  society,  we  are  further  informed 
by  a  lady  quoted  by  Mr.  Moore,  he  was  in  the 
habit  of  speaking  of  his  wife  with  much  respect 
and  affection,  as  an  illustrious  lady,  distinguished 
for  her  qualities  of  heart  and  understanding ; 
saying  that  all  the  fault  of  their  cruel  separation, 
lay  with  himself.  Mr.  Moore  seems  at  times  to, 
be  somewhat  puzzled  by  these  contradictory 
statements  of  his  idol,  and  speculates  not  a 
little  on  what  could  be  Lord  Byron's  object  in 
using  such  language  in  public ;  mentally  com 
paring  it,  we  suppose,  with  the  free  handling 
which  he  gave  to  the  same  subject  in  his  private 
correspondence. 

The  innocence  with  which  Moore  gives  him 
self  up  to  be  manipulated  by  Lord  Byron,  the 


84  RESUME    OF    THE    CONSPIRACY. 

naivete  with  which  he  shows  all  the  process, 
let  us  a  little  into  the  secret  of  the  marvellous 
powers  of  charming  and  blinding  which  this 
great  actor  possessed. 

Lord  Byron  had  the  beauty,  the  wit,  the 
genius,  the  dramatic  talent,  which  have  consti 
tuted  the  strength  of  some  wonderfully  fascinat 
ing  women. 

There  have  been  women  able  to  lead  their 
leashes  of  blinded  adorers  ;  to  make  them  swear 
that  black  was  white,  or  white  black,  at  their 
word  ;  to  smile  away  their  senses,  or  weep  away 
their  reason.  No  matter  what  these  sirens  may 
say,  no  matter  what  they  may  do,  though  caught 
in  a  thousand  transparent  lies,  and  doing  a 
thousand  deeds  which  would  have  ruined  others, 
still  men  madly  rave  after  them  in  life,  and  tear 
their  hair  over  their  graves.  Such  an  enchanter 
in  man's  shape  was  Lord  Byron. 

He  led  captive  Moore  and  Murray  by  be 
ing  beautiful,  a  genius,  and  a  lord  ;  calling 
them  "  Dear  Tom,"  and  "  Dear  Murray,"  while 


RESUME    OF    THE    CONSPIRACY.  85 

they  were  only  commoners.  Pie  first  insulted 
Sir  Walter  Scott,  and  then  witched  his  heart 
out  of  him  by  ingenuous  confessions  and  poeti 
cal  compliments  ;  he  took  Wilson's  heart  by 
flattering  messages  and  a  beautifully-written 
letter ;  he  corresponded  familiarly  with  Hogg ; 
and,  before  his  death,  had  made  fast  friends, 
in  one  way  or  another,  of  the  whole  Noctes 
Ambrosianas  Club. 

We  thus  have  given  the  historical  resum£  of 
Lord  Byron's  attacks  on  his  wife's  reputation  : 
we  shall  add,  that  they  were  based  on  philo 
sophic  principles,  showing  a  deep  knowledge  of 
mankind.  An  analysis  will  show  that  they  can 
be  philosophically  classified  :  — 

ist,  Those  which  addressed  the  sympathetic 
nature  of  man,  representing  her  as  cold,  method 
ical,  severe,  strict,  unforgiving. 

2d,  Those  addressed  to  the  faculty  of  associa 
tion,  connecting  her  with  ludicrous  and  licen 
tious  images  ;  taking  from  her  the  usual  protec 
tion  of  womanly  delicacy  and  sacredness. 


86  RESUME    OF    THE    CONSPIRACY. 

3d,  Those  addressed  to  the  moral  faculties, 
accusing  her  as  artful,  treacherous,  untruthful, 
malignant. 

All  these  various  devices  he  held  in  his  hand, 
shuffling  and  dealing  them  as  a  careful  gamester 
his  pack  of  cards  according  to  the  exigencies  of 
the  game.  He  played  adroitly,  skilfully,  with 
blinding  flatteries  and  seductive  wiles,  that 
made  his  victims  willing  dupes. 

Nothing  can  more  clearly  show  the  power 
and  perfectness  of  his  enchantments  than  the 
masterly  way  in  which  he  turned  back  the  moral 
force  of  the  whole  English  nation,  which  had 
risen  at  first  in  its  strength  against  him.  The 
victory  was  complete. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON'S    DEATH. 

A  T  the  time  of  Lord  Byron's  death,  the  Eng 
lish  public  had  been  so  skilfully  manipu 
lated  by  the  Byron  propaganda,  that  the  sympa 
thy  of  the  whole  world  was  with  him.  A  tide 
of  emotion  was  now  aroused  in  England  by  his 
early  death,  —  dying  in  the  cause  of  Greece  and 
liberty.  There  arose  a  general  wail  for  him,  as 
for  a  lost  pleiad,  not  only  in  England,  but  over 
the  whole  world  ;  a  great  rush  of  enthu 
siasm  for  his  memory,  to  which  the  greatest 
literary  men  of  England  freely  gave  voice.  By 
general  consent,  Lady  Byron  seems  to  have 
been  looked  upon  as  the  only  cold-hearted,  un 
sympathetic  person  in  this  general  mourning. 

From  that  time,  the  literary  world  of  England 

87 


88   RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON'S  DEATH. 

apparently  regarded  Lady  Byron  as  a  woman  to 
whom  none  of  the  decorums,  nor  courtesies  of 
ordinary  womanhood,  nor  even  the  consideration 
belonging  to  common  humanity,  were  due. 

"  She  that  is  a  widow  indeed,  and  desolate," 
has  been  regarded  in  all  Christian  countries  as 
an  object  made  sacred  by  the  touch  of  God's 
afflicting  hand,  sacred  in  her  very  helplessness  ; 
and  the  old  Hebrew  Scriptures  give  to  the 
Supreme  Father  no  dearer  title  than  "  the 
widow's  God."  But,  on  Lord  Byron's  death, 
men  not  devoid  of  tenderness,  men  otherwise 
generous  and  of  fine  feeling,  acquiesced  in  in 
sults  to  his  widow  with  an  obtuseness  that 
seems,  on  review,  quite  incredible. 

Lady  Byron  was  not  only  a  widow,  but  an 
orphan.  She  had  no  sister  for  confidante  ;  no 
father  and  mother  to  whom  to  go  in  her  sor 
rows,  —  sorrows  so  much  deeper  and  darker  to 
her  than  they  could  be  to  any  other  human 
being..  She  had  neither  son  nor  brother  to 
uphold  and  protect  her.  On  all  hands  it  was 


RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON'S    DEATH.       89 

acknowledged,  that,  so  far,  there  was  no  fault  to 
be  found  in  her  but  her  utter  silence.  Her  life 
was  confessed  to  be  pure,  useful,  charitable  ;  and 
yet,  in  this  time  of  her  sorrow,  the  writers  of 
England  issued  article  upon  article  not  only 
devoid  of  delicacy,  but  apparently  injurious  and 
insulting  towards  her,  with  a  blind  unconscious 
ness  which  seems  astonishing. 

One  of  the  greatest  literary  powers  of  that  time 
was  the  "  Blackwood  :"  the  reigning  monarch  on 
that  literary  throne  was  Wilson,  the  lion-hearted, 
the  brave,  generous,  tender  poet,  and,  with  some 
sad  exceptions,  the  noble  man.  But  Wilson  had 
believed  the  story  of  Byron,  and,  by  his  very 
generosity  and  tenderness  and  pity,  was  betrayed 
into  injustice. 

In  "The  Noctes  "  of  November,  1824,  there  is 
a  conversation  of  the  Noctes  club,  in  which 
North  says,  "  Byron  and  I  knew  each  other 
pretty  well  ;  and  I  suppose  there's  no  harm  in 
adding,  that  we  appreciated  each  other  pretty 
tolerably.  Did  you  ever  see  his  letter  to  me  ?  " 


gO   RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON  S  DEATH. 

The  footnote  to  this  says,  "  This  letter,  which 
was  PRINTED  in  Byroiis  lifetime,  was  not 
published  till  1830,  when  it  appeared  in  Moore's 
Life  of  Byron.  It  is  one  of  the  most  vigor 
ous  prose  compositions  in  the  language.  Byron 
had  the  highest  opinion  of  Wilson's  genius  and 
noble  spirit." 

In  the  first  place,  with  our  present  ideas  of 
propriety  and  good  taste,  we  should  reckon 
it  an  indecorum  to  make  the  private  affairs  of  a 
pure  and  good  woman,  whose  circumstances 
from  any  point  of  view  were  trying,  and  who 
evidently  shunned  publicity,  the  subject  of  pub 
lic  discussion  in  magazines  which  were  read  all 
over  the  world. 

Lady  Byron,  as  they  all  knew,  had  on  her 
hands  a  most  delicate  and  onerous  task,  in  bring 
ing  up  an  only  daughter,  necessarily  inheriting 
peculiarities  of  genius  and  great  sensitiveness  ; 
and  the  many  mortifications  and  embarrassments 
which  such  intermeddling  with  her  private 
matters  must  have  given,  certainly  should  have 


RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON  S    DEATH.       9 1 

been  considered  by  men  with  any  pretensions  to 
refinement  or  good  feeling. 

But  the  literati  of  England  allowed  her  no 
consideration,  no  rest,  no  privacy. 

In  "The  Noctes  "  of  November,  1825,  there 
is  the  record  of  a  free  conversation  upon  Lord 
and  Lady  Byron's  affairs,  interlarded  with  exhor 
tations  to  push  the  bottle,  and  remarks  on 
whiskey-toddy.  Medwin's  "  Conversations  with 
Lord  Byron  "  is  discussed,  which,  we  are  told  in 
a  note,  appeared  a  few  months  after  the  noble 
poet's  death. 

There  is  a  rather  bold  and  free  discus 
sion  of  Lord  Byron's  character,  —  his  fond 
ness  for  gin  and  water,  on  which  stimulus 
he  wrote  "  Don  Juan  ;  "  and  James  Hogg  says 
pleasantly  to  Mullion,  "  O  Mullion  !  it's  a  pity 
you  and  Byron  could  na  ha'  been  acquaint. 
There  would  ha'  been  brave  sparring  to  see 
who  could  say  the  wildest  and  the  dreadfullest 
things  ;  for  he  had  neither  fear  of  man  or  wo 
man,  and  would  ha'  his  joke  or  jeer,  cost  what  it 


Q2       RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON  S    DEATH. 

might."  And  then  follows  a  specimen  of  one  of 
his  jokes  with  an  actress,  that,  in  indecency,  cer 
tainly  justifies  the  assertion.  From  the  other 
stories  which  follow,  and  the  parenthesis  that 
occurs  frequently,  ( "  Mind  your  glass,  James,  a 
little  more  !  "  )  it  seems  evident  that  the  party 
are  progressing  in  their  peculiar  kind  of  civiliza 
tion. 

It  is  in  this  same  circle  and  paper  that  Lady 
Byron's  private  affairs  come  up  for  discussion. 
The  discussion  is  thus  elegantly  introduced  :  — 

Hogg.  —  "  Reach  me  the  black  bottle.  I  say,  Christopher, 
what,  after  all,  is  your  opinion  o'  Lord  and  Leddy  Byron's 
quarrel  ?  Do  you  yoursel'  take  part  with  him,  or  with  her  ?  I 
wad  like  to  hear  your  real  opinion." 

North.  —  "  Oh,  dear  !  Well,  Hogg,  since  you  will  have  it,  I 
think  Douglas  Kinnaird  and  Hobhouse  are  bound  to  tell  us 
whether  there  be  any  truth,  and  how  much,  in  this  story  about 
the  declaration,  signed  by  Sir  Ralph  "  [Milbanke]. 

The  note  here  tells  us  that  this  refers  to  a 
statement  that  appeared  in  "  Blackwood  "  imme 
diately  after  Byron's  death,  to  the  effect,  that, 


RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON  S    DEATH.       93 

previous  to  the  formal  separation  from  his  wife, 
Byron  required  and  obtained  from  Sir  Ralph 
Milbanke,  Lady  Byron's  father,  a  statement  to 
the  effect  that  Lady  Byron  had  no  charge  of 
moral  delinquency  to  bring  against  him."* 
North  continues  :  — 

"  And  I  think  Lady  Byron's  letter,  the  '  Dearest  Duck '  one 
I  mean,  should  really  be  forthcoming,  if  her  ladyship's  friends 
wish  to  stand  fair  before  the  public.  At  present,  we  have  noth 
ing  but  loose  talk  of  society  to  go  upon ;  and  certainly,  if  the 
things  that  are  said  be  true,  there  must  be  thorough  explanation 
from  some  quarter,  or  the  tide  will  continue,  as  it  Jias  assuredly 
begun,  toflmu  in  a  direction  very  opposite  to  what  we  were  for  years 
accustomed.  Sir,  they  must  explain  (his  business  of  the  letter. 
You  have,  of  course,  heard  about  the  invitation  it  contained, 
the  warm,  affectionate  invitation,  to  Kirkby  Mallory  "  — 

Hogg  interposes,  — 

"  I  clinna  like  to  be  intei-ruptin'  ye,  Mr.  North ;  but  I  must 
inquire,  Is  the  jug  to  stand  still  while  ye're  going  on  at  that 
rate  ?  " 

*  Recently,  Lord  Lindsay  has  published  another  version  of  this  story, 
which  makes  it  appear  that  he  has  conversed  with  a  lady  who  conversed  with 
Hobhouse  during  his  lifetime,  in  which  this  story  is  differently  reported.  In 
the  last  version,  it  is  made  to  appear  that  Hobhouse  got  this  declaration 
from  Lady  Byron  her?elf. 


94       RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON  S    DEATH. 

North.  —  "  There,  Porker  !  These  things  are  part  and  par 
cel  of  the  chatter  of  every  bookseller's  shop  ;  "a  fortiori,  of  every 
drawing-room  in  May  Fair.  Can  the  matter  stop  here  ?  Can  a 
great  man's  memory  be  permitted  to  incur  damnation  while 
these  saving  clauses  are  afloat  anywhere  uncontradicted  ?  " 

And  from  this  the  conversation  branches  off 
into  strong,  emphatic  praise  of  Byron's  conduct 
in  Greece-  during  the  last  part  of  his  life. 

The  silent  widow  is  thus  delicately  and  con 
siderately  reminded  in  the  "  Blackwood "  that 
she  is  the  talk,  not  only  over  the  whiskey-jug  of 
the  Noctes,  but  in  every  drawing-room  in  Lon 
don  ;  and  that  she  must  speak  out  and  explain 
matters,  or  the  whole  world  will  set  against  her. 

But  she  does  not  speak  yet.  The  public  per 
secution,  therefore,  proceeds.  Medwin's  book 
being  insufficient,  another  biographer  is  to  be 
selected.  Now,  the  person  in  the  Noctes  club 
who  was"  held  to  have  the  most  complete  informa 
tion  of  the  Byron  affairs,  and  was,  on  that  ac 
count,  first  thought  of  by  Murray  to  execute  this 
very  delicate  task  of  writing  a  Memoir  which 


RESULTS   AFTER    LORD    BYRON  S    DEATH.      95 

should  include  the  most  sacred  domestic  affairs 
of  a  noble  lady  and  her  orphan  daughter,  was 
Maginn.  Maginn,  the  author  of  the  pleasant 
joke,  that  "  man  never  reaches  the  apex  of  civi 
lization  till  he  is  too  drunk  to  pronounce  the 
word,"  was  the  first  person  in  whose  hands  the 
Autobiography,  Memoirs,  and  Journals  of  Lord 
Byron  were  placed  with  this  view. 

The  following  note  from  Shelton  Mackenzie, 
in  the  June  number  of  "The  Noctes,"  1824, 
says,  — 

"  At  that  time,  had  he  been  so  minded,  Maginn  (Odoherty) 
could  have  got  up  a  popular  Life  of  Byron  as  well  as  most 
men  in  England.  Immediately  on  the  account  of  Byron's  death 
being  received  in  London,  John  Murray  proposed  that  Maginn 
should  bring  out  Memoirs,  Journals,  and  Letters  of  Lord  Byron, 
and,  with  this  intent,  placed  in  his  hand  every  line  that  he 
(Murray)  possessed  in  Byron's  handwriting.  .  .  .  The  strong 
desire  of  Byron  V  family  and  executors  that  the  Autobiography 
should  be  burned,  to  which  desire  Murray  foolishly  yielded, 
made  such  an  hiatus  in  the  materials,  that  Murray  and  Maginn 
agreed  it  would  not  answer  to  bring  out  the  work  then.  Event 
ually  Moore  executed  it." 


96   RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON  S  DEATH. 

The  character  of  the  times  in  which  this  work 
was  to  be  undertaken  will  appear  from  the  fol 
lowing  note  of  Mackenzie's  to  "  The  Noctes  "  of 
August,  1824,  which  we  copy,  with  the  author's 
own  Italics :  — 

"In  the  '  Blackwood  '  of  July,  1824,  was  a  poetical  epistle  by 
the  renowned  Timothy  Tickler,  to  the  editor  of  the  'John 
Bull '  magazine,  on  an  article  in  his  first  number.  This  article 
.  .  .  professed  to  be  a  portion  of  the  veritable  Autobiography 
of  Byron  which  was  burned,  and  was  called  '  My  Wedding 
Night.'  It  appeared  to  relate  in  detail  eicry  thing  that  oc 
curred  in  the  twenty-four  hours  immediately  succeeding  that  in 
which  Byron  was  married.  It  had  plenty  of  coarseness, 
and  some  to  spare.  It  went  into  particulars  such  as  hitherto 
had  been  given  only  by  Faublas  ;  and  it  had,  notwithstanding, 
many  phrases  and  some  facts  which  evidently  did  not  belong  to 
a  mere  fabricator.  Some  years  after,  I  compared  this  '  Wed 
ding  Night '  with  what  I  had  all  assurance  of  having  been 
transcribed  from  the  actual  manuscripts  of  Byron,  and  was  per 
suaded  that  the  magazine-writer  must  have  had  the  actual  state 
ment  before  him,  or  have  had  a  perusal  of  it.  The  writer  in 
'  Blackwood  '  declared  his  conviction  that  it  really  was  Byron's 
own  writing." 

The  reader  must  remember  that   Lord  Byron 


RESULTS    AFTER  LORD    BYRON  S    DEATH.       Q/ 

died  April,  1824:  so  that,  according  to  this,  his 
Autobiography  was  made  the  means  of  this 
gross  insult  to  his  widow  three  months  after  his 
death. 

If  some  powerful  cause  had  not  paralyzed  all 
feelings  of  gentlemanly  honor,  and  of  womanly 
delicacy,  and  of  common  humanity,  towards 
Lady  Byron,  throughout  the  whole  British 
nation,  no  editor  would  have  dared  to  open  a 
periodical  with  such  an  article  ;  or,  if  he  had,  he 
would  have  been  overwhelmed  with  a  storm 
of  popular  indignation,  which,  like  the  fire 
upon  Sodom,  would  have  left  him  a  pillar 
of  salt  for  a  warning  to  all  future  genera 
tions. 

"  Blackweod  "  reproves  "  The  John  Bull  "  in  a 
poetical  epistle,  recognizing  the  article  as 
coming  from  Byron,  and  says  to  the  author,  — 

"  But  that_y<?«,  sir,  a  wit  and  a  scholar  like  you, 
Should  not  blush  to  produce  what  he  blushed  not  to  do,  — 
Take  your  compliment,  youngster  :  this  doubles,  almost, 
The  sorrow  tfaat  rose  when  his  honor  was  lost." 
7 


98      RESULTS  AFTER    LORD    BYRON'S    DEATH. 

We  may  not  wonder  that  the  Autobiography 
was  burned,  as  Murray  says  in  a  recent  account, 
by  a  committee  of  Byron's  friends,  including 
Hobhouse,  his  sister,  and  Murray  himself. 

Now,  the  "  Blackwood  "  of  July,  1824,  thus  de 
clares  its  conviction  that  this  outrage  on  every 
sentiment  of  human  decency  came  from  Lord 
Byron,  and  that  his  honor  was  lost.  Maginn 
does  not  undertake  the  Memoir.  No  Memoir  at 
all  is  undertaken  ;  till  finally  Moore  is  selected, 
as,  like  Demetrius  of  old,  a  well-skilled  gilder 
and  "  maker  of  silver  shrines,"  though  not  for 
Diana.  To  Moore  is  committed  the  task  of 
doing  his  best  for  this  battered  image,  in  which 
even  the  worshippers  recognize  foul  sulphurous 
cracks,  but  which  they  none  the  less  stand 
ready  to  worship  as  a  genuine  article  that  "  fell 
down  from  Jupiter." 

Moore  was  a  man  of  no  particular  nicety  as  to 
moralities,  but  in  that  matter  seems  not  very 
much  below  what  this  record  shows  his  average 
associates  to  be.  He  is  so  far  superior  to 


RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON  S  DEATH.  99 

Maginn,  that  his  vice  is  rose-colored  and  refined. 
He  does  not  burst  out  with  such  heroic  stanzas 
as  Maginn's  frank  invitation  to  Jeremy  Ben- 
tham  :  — 

"  Jeremy,  throw  your  pen  aside, 

And  come  get.  drunk  with  me  ; 
And  we'll  go  where  Bacchus  sits  astride, 
Perched  high  on  barrels  three." 

Moore's  vice  is  cautious,  soft,  seductive, 
slippery,  and  covered  at  times  with  a  thin, 
tremulous  veil  of  religious  sentimentalism. 

In  regard  to  Byron,  he  was  an  unscrupulous, 
committed  partisan  :  he  was  as  much  bewitched 
by  him  as  ever  man  has  been  by  woman  ;  and 
therefore  to  him,  at  last,  the  task  of  editing 
Byron's  Memoirs  was  given. 

This  Byron,  whom  they  all  knew  to  be 
obscene  beyond  what  even  their  most  drunken 
tolerance  could  at  first  endure  ;  this  man, 
whose  foul  license  spoke  out  what  most 
men  conceal  from  mere  respect  to  the  decent 
instincts  of  humanity  ;  whose  "  honor  was  lost," 


IOO      RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON'S    DEATH. 

—  was  submitted  to  this  careful  manipulator,  to 
be  turned  out  a  perfected  idol  for  a  world  longing 
for  one,  as  the  Israelites  longed  for  the  calf 
in  Horeb. 

The  image  was  to  be  invested  with  deceitful 
glories  and  shifting  haloes,  —  admitted  faults 
spoken  of  as  peculiarities  of  sacred  origin,— 
and  the  world  given  to  understand  that  no 
common  rule  or  measure  could  apply  to  such 
an  undoubtedly  divine  production  ;  and  so  the 
hearts  of  men  were  to  be  wrung  with  pity  for 
his  sorrows  as  the  yearning  pain  of  a  god,  and 
with  anger  at  his  injuries  as  sacrilege  on  the 
sacredness  of  genius,  till  they  were  ready  to 
cast  themselves  at  his  feet,  and  adore. 

Then  he  was  to  be  set  up  on  a  pedestal,  like 
Nebuchadnezzar's  image  on  the  plains  of  Dura ; 
and  what  time  the  world  heard  the  sound  of 
cornet,  sackbut,  and  dulcimer,  in  his  enchanting 
verse,  they  were  to  fall  down  and  worship. 

For  Lady  Byron,  Moore  had  simply  the  respect 
that  a  commoner  has  for  a  lady  of  rank,  and  a 


RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON'S  BEA'TH.   IOI1 

good  deal  of  the  feeling  that  seems  to  underlie 
all  English  literature,  —  that  it  is  no  matter  what 
becomes  of  the  woman  when  the  man's  story  is 
to  be  told.  But,  with  all  his  faults,  Moore  was 
not  a  cruel  man ;  and  we  cannot  conceive  such 
outrageous  cruelty  and  ungentlemanly  indelicacy 
towards  an  unoffending  woman,  as  he  shows  in 
these  Memoirs,  without  referring  them  to  Lord 
Byron's  own  influence  in  making  him  an  un 
scrupulous,  committed  partisan  on  his  side. 

So  little  pity,  so  little  sympathy,  did  he  sup 
pose  Lady  Byron  to  be  worthy  of,  that  he 
laid  before  her,  in  the  sight  of  all  the  world, 
selections  from  her  husband's  letters  and  jour 
nals,  in  which  the  privacies  of  her  courtship 
and  married  life  were  jested  upon  with  a  vulgar 
levity  ;  letters  filled,  from  the  time  of  the  act 
of  separation,  with  a  constant  succession  of 
sarcasms,  stabs,  stings,  epigrams,  and  vindictive 
allusions  to  herself,  bringing  her  into  direct 
and  insulting  comparison  with  his  various  mis 
tresses,  and  implying  their  superiority  over 


•10n      .RTSSULTS    AFTBR    LORD    BYRON*S    DEATH. 

her.  There,  too,  were  gross  attacks  on  her 
father  and  mother,  as  having  been  the  instiga 
tors  of  the  separation  ;  and  poor  Lady  Mil- 
banke,  in  particular,  is  sometimes  mentioned 
with  epithets  so  offensive,  that  the  editor  pru 
dently  covers  the  terms  with  stars,  as  intending 
language  too  gross  to  be  printed. 

The  last  mistress  of  Lord  Byron  is  uniformly 
brought  forward  in  terms  of  such  respect  and 
consideration,  that  one  would  suppose  that  the 
usual  moral  laws  that  regulate  English  family 
life  had  been  specially  repealed  in  his  favor. 
Moore  quotes  with  approval  letters  from  Shel 
ley,  stating  that  Lord  Byron's  connection  with 
La  Guiccioli  has  been  of  inestimable  benefit  to 
him;  and  that  he 'is  now  becoming  what  he 
should  be,  "  a  virtuous  man."  Moore  goes  on  to 
speak  of  the  connection  as  one,  though  somewhat 
reprehensible,  yet  as  having  all  those  advantages 
of  marriage  and  settled  domestic  ties  that  Byron's 
affectionate  spirit  had  long  sighed  for,  but  never 
before  found  ;  and  in  his  last  resume  of  the 


RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON  S    DEATH.       IO3 

poet's  character,  at  the  end  of  the  volume,  he 
brings  the  mistress  into  direct  comparison  with 
the  wife  in  a  single  sentence  :  "  The  woman  to 
whom  he  gave  the  love  of  his  maturer  years 
idolizes  his  name  ;  and,  with  a  single  tmhappy 
exception,  scarce  an  instance  is  to  be  found  of 
one  brought  .  .  .  into  relations  of  amity  with 
him  who  did  not  retain  a  kind  regard  for  him  in 
life,  and  a  fondness  for  his  memory." 

Literature  has  never  yet  seen  the  instance  of 
a  person,  of  Lady  Byron's  rank  in  life,  placed 
before  the  world  in  a  position  more  humiliating 
to  womanly  dignity,  or  wounding  to  womanly 
delicacy. 

The  direct  implication  is,  that  she  has  no  feel 
ings  to  be  hurt,  no  heart  to  be  broken,  and  is 
not  worthy  even  of  the  consideration  which  in 
ordinary  life  is  to  be  accorded  to  a  widow  who 
has  received  those  awful  tidings  which  generally 
must  awaken  many  emotions,  and  call  for  some 
consideration,  even  in  the  most  callous  hearts. 

The  woman   who  we   are   told   walked    the 


IO4      RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON'S    DEATH. 

room,  vainly  striving  to  control  the  sobs  that 
shook  her  frame,  while  she  sought  to  draw  from 
the  servant  that  last  message  of  her  husband 
which  she  was  never  to  hear,  was  not  thought 
worthy  even  of  the  rights  of  common  hu 
manity. 

The  first  volume  of  the  Memoir  came  out  in 
1830.  Then  for  the  first  time  came  one  flash 
of  lightning  from  the  silent  cloud  ;  and  she  who 
had  never  spoken  before  spoke  out.  The  libels 
on  the  memory  of  her  dead  parents  drew  from 
her  what  her  own  wrongs  never  did.  During 
all  this  time,  while  her  husband  had  been  keep 
ing  her  effigy  dangling  before  the  public  as  a 
mark  for  solemn  curses,  and  filthy  lampoons,  and 
secretly-circulated  disclosures,  that  spared  no 
sacredness  and  violated  every  decorum,  she  had 
not  uttered  a  word.  She  had  been  subjected  to 
nameless  insults,  discussed  in  the  assemblies  of 
drunkards,  and  challenged  to  speak  for  herself. 
Like  the  chaste  lady  in  "  Comus,"  whom  the  vile 
wizard  had  bound  in  the  enchanted  seat  to  be 


RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON  S  DEATH.   1 05 

"  grinned  at  and  chattered  at  "  by  all  the  filthy 
rabble  of  his  dehumanized  rout,  she  had  re 
mained  pure,  lofty,  and  undefiled  ;  and  the  stains 
of  mud  and  mire  thrown  upon  her  had  fallen 
from  her  spotless  garments. 

Now  that  she  is. dead,  a  recent  writer  in  "The 
London  Quarterly  "  dares  give  voice  to  an  insin 
uation  which  even  Byron  gave  only  a  suggestion 
of  when  he  called  his  wife  Clytemnestra ;  and 
hints  that  she  tried  the  power  of  youth  and 
beauty  to  win  to  her  the  young  solicitor  Lushing- 
ton,  and  a  handsome  young  officer  of  high  rank. 

At  this  time,  such  insinuations  had  not  been 
thought  of;  and  the  only  and  chief  allegation 
against  Lady  Byron  had  been  a  cruel  severity 
of  virtue. 

At  all  events,  when  Lady  Byron  spoke,  the 
world  listened  with  respect,  and  believed  what 
she  said. 

Here  let  us,  too,  read  her  statement,  and 
give  it  the  careful  attention  she  solicits 
(Moore's  Life  of  Byron,  vol.  vi.  p.  275) :  — 


106   RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON'S  DEATH. 

"  I  have  disregarded  various  publications  in  which  facts 
within  my  own  knowledge  have  been  grossly  misrepresented ; 
but  I  am  called  upon  to  notice  some  of  the  erroneous  statements 
proceeding  from  one  who  claims  to  be  considered  as  Lord 
Byron's  confidential  and  authorized  friend.  Domestic  details 
ought  not  to  be  intruded  on  the  public  attention  :  if,  however, 
they  are  so  intruded,  the  persons  affected  by  them  have  a  right 
to  refute  injurious  charges.  Mr.  Moore  has  promulgated  his 
own  impressions  of  private  events  in  which  I  was  most  nearly 
concerned,  as  if  he  possessed  a  competent  knowledge  of  the 
subject.  Having  survived  Lord  Byron,  I  feel  increased  reluc 
tance  to  advert  to  any  circumstances  connected  with  the  period 
of  my  marriage  ;  nor  is  it  now  my  intention  to  disclose  them 
further  than  may  be  indispensably  requisite  for  the  end  I  have 
in  view.  Self-vindication  is  not  the  motive  which  actuates  me 
to  make  this  appeal,  and  the  spirit  of  accusation  is  unmingled 
with  it ;  but  when  the  conduct  of  my  parents  is  brought  for 
ward  in  a  disgraceful  light  by  the  passages  selected  from  Lord 
Byron's  letters,  and  by  the  remarks  of  his  biographer,  I  feel 
bound  to  justify  their  characters  from  imputations  which  I 
know  to  be  false.  The  passages  from  Lord  Byron's  letters,  to 
which  I  refer,  are,  —  the  aspersion  on  my  mother's  character 
(p.  648,  1.  4)  :  *  '  My  child  is  very  well  and  flourishing,  I  hear  ; 


*  The  references  are  to  the  first  volume  of  the  first  edition  of  Moore's 
Life,  originally  published  by  itself. 


RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON  S  DEATH.   IO/ 

but  I  must  see  also.  I  feel  no  disposition  to  resign  it  to  the 
contagion  of  its  grandmother"1  s  society."1  The  assertion  of  her  dis 
honorable  conduct  in  employing  a  spy  (p.  645,  1.  7,  &c.)  :  'A 
Mrs.  C.  (now  a  kind  of  housekeeper  and  spy.  of  Lady  Ws), 
who,  in  her  better  days,  was  a  washerwoman,  is  supposed  to  be 
—  by  the  learned  —  very  much  the  occult  cause  of  our  domestic 
discrepancies.'  The  seeming  exculpation  of  myself  in  the 
extract  (p.  646),  with  the  words  immediately  following  it,  '  Her 
nearest  relations  are  a  — — ; '  where  the  blank  clearly  implies 
something  too  offensive  for  publication.  These  passages  tend 
to  throw  suspicion  on  my  parents,  and  give  reason  to  ascribe 
the  separation  either  to  their  direct  agency,  or  to  that  of  '  offi 
cious  spies  '  employed  by  them.*  From  the  following  part  of 
the  narrative  (p.  642),  it  must  also  be  inferred  that  an  undue 
influence  was  exercised  by  them  for  the  accomplishment  of  this 
purpose  :  '  It  was  in  a  few  weeks  after  the  latter  communication 
between  us  (Lord  Byron  and  Mr.  Moore)  that  Lady  Byron 
adopted  the  determination  of  parting  from  him.  She  had  left 
London  at  the  latter  end  of  January,  on  a  visit  to  her  father's 
house  in  Leicestershire  ;  and  Lord  Byron  was  in  a  short  time 
to  follow  her.  They  had  parted  in  the  utmost  kindness,  —  she 
wrote  him  a  letter,  full  of  playfulness  and  affection,  on  the  road ; 
and,  immediately  on  her  arrival  at  Kirkby  Mallory,  her  father 
wrote  to  acquaint  Lord  Byron  that  she  would  return  to  him  no 
more.' 

*  "  The  officious  spies  «f  his  privacy,"  p.  650. 


IO8       RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON'S    DEATH. 

"  In  my  observations  upon  this  statement,  I  shall,  as  far  as 
possible,  avoid  touching  on  any  matters  relating  personally  to 
Lord  Byron  and  myself.  The  facts  are,  —  I  left  London  for 
Kirkby  Mallory,  the  residence  of  my  father  and  mother,  on  the 
1 5th  of  January,  1816.  Lord  Byron  had  signified  to  me  in 
writing  (Jan.  6)  his  absolute  desire  that  I  should  leave 
London  on  the  earliest  day  that  I  could  conveniently  fix.  It 
was  not  safe  for  me  to  undertake  the  fatigue  of  a  journey  sooner 
than  the  I5th.  Previously  to  my  departure,  it  had  been  strongly 
impressed  on  my  mind  that  Lord  Byron  was  under  the  influence 
of  insanity.  This  opinion  was  derived  in  a  great  measure  from 
the  communications  made  to  me  by  his  nearest  relatives  and 
personal  attendant,  who  had  more  opportunities  than  myself 
of  observing  him  during  the  latter  part  of  my  stay  in  town.  It 
was  even  represented  to  me  that  he  was  in  danger  of  destroying 
himself.  With  the  concurrence  of  his  family,  I  had  consulted 
Dr.  Baillie,  as  a  friend  (Jan.  8),  respecting  this  supposed  mal 
ady.  On  acquainting  him  with  the  state  of  the  case,  and  with 
Lord  Byron's  desire  that  I  should  leave  London,  Dr.  Baillie 
thought  that  my  absence  might  be  advisable  as  an  experiment, 
assuming  the  fact  of  mental  derangement ;  for  Dr.  Baillie,  not 
having  had  access  to  Lord  Byron,  could  not  pronounce  a  posi 
tive  opinion  on  that  point.  He  enjoined,  that,  in  correspond 
ence  with  Lord  Byron,  I  should  avoid  all  but  light  and  soothing 
topics.  Under  these  impressions,  I  left  London,  determined  to 
follow  the  advice  given  by  Dr.  Baillie.  Whatever  might  have 
been  the  nature  of  Lord  Byron's  conduct  towards  me  from  the 


RESULTS    AFTER   LORD    BYRON  S    DEATH.       IOQ 

time  of  my  marriage,  yet,  supposing  him  to  be  in  a  state  of 
mental  alienation,  it  was  not  for  me,  nor  for  any  person  of  com 
mon  humanity,  to  manifest  at  that  moment  a  sense  of  injury. 
On  the  day  of  my  departure,  and  again  on  my  arrival  at  Kirkby 
(Jan.  1 6),  I  wrote  to  Lord  Byron  in  a  kind  and  cheerful  tone, 
according  to  those  medical  directions. 

"  The  last  letter  was  circulated,  and  employed  as  a  pretext 
for  the  charge  of  my  having  been  subsequently  infliienced  to 
'  desert '  *  my  husband.  It  has  been  argued  that  I  parted  from 
Lord  Byron  in  perfect  harmony ;  that  feelings  incompatible  with 
any  deep  sense  of  injury  had  dictated  the  letter  which  I  ad 
dressed  to  him ;  and  that  my  sentiments  must  have  been 
changed  by  persuasion  and  interference  when  I  was  under  the 
roof  of  my  parents.  These  assertions  and  inferences  are  wholly 
destitute  of  foundation.  When  I  arrived  at  Kirkby  Mallory, 
my  parents  were  unacquainted  with  the  existence  of  any  causes 
likely  to  destroy  my  prospects  of  happiness  ;  and,  when  I  com 
municated  to  them  the  opinion  which  had  been  formed  concern 
ing  Lord  Byron's  state  of  mind,  they  were  most  anxious  to 
promote  his  restoration  by  every  means  in  their  power.  They 
assured  those  relations  who  were  with  him  in  London,  that 
'  they  would  devote  their  whole  care  and  attention  to  the  alle 
viation  of  his  malady ; '  and  hoped  to  make  the  best  arrange 
ments  for  his  comfort,  if  he  could  be  induced  to  visit  them. 

"  With  these  intentions,  my  mother  wrote  on  the   I7th  to 

*  "  The  deserted  husband,"  p.  651. 


I  10   RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON  S  DEATH. 

Lord  Byron,  inviting  him  to  Kirkby  Mallory.  She  had  always 
treated  him  with  an  affectionate  consideration  and  indulgence, 
which  extended  to  every  little  peculiarity  of  his  feelings.  Never 
did  an  irritating  word  escape  her  lips  in  her  whole  intercourse 
with  him.  The  accounts  given  me  after  I  left  Lord  Byron,  by 
the  persons  in  constant  intercourse  with  him,  added  to  those 
doubts  which  had  before  transiently  occurred  to  my  mind  as  to 
the  reality  of  the  alleged  disease;  and  the  reports  of  his  medical 
attendant  were  far  from  establishing  the  existence  of  any  thing 
like  lunacy.  Under  this  uncertainty,  I  deemed  it  right  to  com 
municate  to  my  parents,  that,  if  I  were  to  consider  Lord  Byron's 
past  conduct  as  that  of  a  person  of  sound  mind,  nothing  could 
induce  me  to  return  to  him.  It  therefore  appeared  expedient, 
both  to  them  and  myself,  to  consult  the  ablest  advisers.  For 
that  object,  and  also  to  obtain  still  further  information  respecting 
the  appearances  which  seemed  to  indicate  mental  derangement, 
my  mother  determined  to  go  to  London.  She  was  empowered 
by  me  to  take  legal  opinions  on  a  written  statement  of  mine, 
though  I  had  then  reasons  for  reserving  a  part  of  the  case  from 
the  knowledge  even  of  my  father  and  mother.  Being  convinced 
by  the  result  of  these  inquiries,  and  by  the  tenor  of  Lord  By 
ron's  proceedings,  that  the  notion. of  insanity  was  an  illusion,  I 
no  longer  hesitated  to  authorize  such  measures  as  were  necessary 
in  order  to  secure  me  from  being  ever  again  placed  in  his  power. 
Conformably  with  this  resolution,  my  father  wrote  to  him  on 
the  2d  of  February  to  propose  an  amicable  separation.  Lord 
Byron  at  first  rejected  this  proposal ;  but  when  it  was  distinctly 


RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON  S  DEATH.   Ill 

notified  to  him,  that,  if  he  persisted  in  his  refusal,  recourse  must 
be  had  to  legal  measures,  he  agreed  to  sign  a  deed  of  separation. 
Upon  applying  to  Dr.  Lushington,  who  was  intimately  ac 
quainted  with  all  the  circumstances,  to  state  in  writing  what 
he  recollected  upon  this  subject,  I  received  from  him  the  follow 
ing  letter,  by  which  it  will  be  manifest  that  my  mother  cannot 
have  been  actuated  by  any  hostile  or  ungenerous  motives  towards 
Lord  Byron  :  — 

"  '  MY  DEAR  LADY  BYRON,  —  I  can  rely  upon  the  accuracy 
of  my  memory  for  the  following  statement.  I  was  originally 
consulted  by  Lady  Noel,  on  your  behalf,  whilst  you  were  in  the 
country.  The  circumstances  detailed  by  her  were  such  as  justi 
fied  a  separation  ;  but  they  were  not  of  that  aggravated  descrip 
tion  as  to  render  such  a  measure  indispensable.  On  Lady  Noel's 
representation,  I  deemed  a  reconciliation  with  Lord  Byron  prac 
ticable,  and  felt  most  sincerely  a  wish  to  aid  in  effecting  it. 
There  was  not  on  Lady  Noel's  part  any  exaggeration  of  the 
facts  ;  nor,  so  far  as  I  could  perceive,  any  determination  to  pre 
vent  a  return  to  Lord  Byron  :  certainly  none  was  expressed 
when  I  spoke  of  a  reconciliation.  When  you  came  to  town,  in 
about  a  fortnight,  or  perhaps  more,  after  my  first  interview  with 
Lady  Noel,  I  was  for  the  first  time  informed  by  you  of  facts 
utterly  unknown,  as  I  have  no  doubt,  to  Sir  Ralph  and  Lady 
Noel.  On  receiving  this  additional  information,  my  opinion  was 
entirely  changed  :  I  considered  a  reconciliation  impossible.  I 
declared  my  opinion,  and  added,  that,  if  such  an  idea  should  be 
entertained,  I  could  not,  either  professionally  or  otherwise,  take 
any  part  towards  effecting  it. 

" '  Believe  me,  very  faithfully  yours, 

"'STEPH.  LUSHINGTON. 

'"GREAT  GEORGE  STREET,  Jan.  31,  1830.' 


112   RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON  S  DEATH. 

"  I  have  only  to  observe,  that,  if  the  statements  on  which  my 
legal  advisers  (the  late  Sir  Samuel  Romilly  and  Dr.  Lushing- 
ton)  formed  their  opinions  were  false,  the  responsibility  and  the 
odium  should  rest  with  me  only.  I  trust  that  the  facts  which  I 
have  here  briefly  recapitulated  will  absolve  my  father  and 
mother  from  all  accusations  with  regard  to  the  part  they  took  in 
the  separation  between  Lord  Byron  and  myself. 

"  They  neither  originated,  instigated,  nor  advised  that  sepa 
ration  ;  and  they  cannot  be  condemned  for  having  afforded  to 
their  daughter  the  assistance  and  protection  which  she  claimed. 
There  is  no  other  near  relative  to  vindicate  their  memory  from 
insult.  I  am  therefore  compelled  to  break  the  silence  which  I 
had  hoped  always  to  observe,  and  to  solicit  from  the  readers  of 
Lord  Byron's  Life  an  impartial  consideration  of  the  testimony 
extorted  from  me.  "  A.  I.  NOEL  BYRON. 

"HANGER  HILL,  Feb.  19,  1830." 

The  effect  of  this  statement  on  the  literary 
world  may  be  best  judged  by  the  discussion  of 
it  by  Christopher  North  (Wilson)  in  the  suc 
ceeding  May  number  of  "  The  Noctes,"  where 
the  bravest  and  most  generous  of  literary  men 
that  then  were  —  himself  the  husband  of  a  gen 
tle  wife  —  thus  gives  sentence  :  the  conversa 
tion  is  between  North  and  the  Shepherd  :  — 


RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON'S  DEATH.   113 

North.  —  "  God  forbid  I  should  wound  the  feelings  of  Lady 
Byron,  of  whose  character,  known  to  me  but  by  the  high  esti 
mation  in  which  it  is  held  by  all  who  have  enjoyed  her  friend 
ship,  I  have  always  spoken  with  respect !  .  .  .  But  may  I, 
without  harshness  or  indelicacy,  say,  here  among  ourselves, 
James,  that,  by  marrying  Byron,  she  took  upon  herself,  with 
eyes  wide  open  and  conscience  clearly  convinced,  duties  very 
different  from  those  of  which,  even  in  common  cases,  the  pre 
saging  foresight  shadows  .  .  .  the  light  of  the  first  nuptial 
moon  ? " 

Shepherd.  —  "  She  did  that,  sir  ;  by  my  troth,  she  did  that." 

North.  — "  Miss  Milbanke  knew  that  he  was  reckoned  a 
rake  and  a  roue  ;  and  although  his  genius  wiped  off,  by  impas 
sioned  eloquence  in  love-letters  that  were  felt  to  be  irresistible, 
or  hid  the  worst  stain  of,  that  reproach,  still  Miss  Milbanke  must 
have  believed  it  a  perilous  thing  to  be  the  wife  of  Lord  Byron. 
.  .  .  But  still,  by  joining  her  life  to  his  in  marriage,  she  pledged 
her  troth  and  her  faith  and  her  love,  under  probabilities  of  se 
vere,  disturbing,  perhaps  fearful  trials,  in  the  future.  .  .  . 

"  But  I  think  Lady  Byron  ought  not  to  have  printed  that 
Narrative.  Death  abrogates  not  the  rights  of  a  husband  to  his 
wife's  silence  when  speech  is  fatal  ...  to  his  character  as 
a  man.  Has  she  not  flung  suspicion  over  his  bones  interred, 
that  they  are  the  bones  of  a  —  monster  ?  ...  If  Byron's  sins  or 
crimes  —  for  we  are  driven  to  use  terrible  terms  —  were  unen 
durable  and  unforgivable  as  if  against  the  Holy  Ghost,  ought 


I  14      RESULTS    AFTER   LORD    BYRON  S    DEATH. 

the  wheel,  the  rack,  or  the  stake  to  have  extorted  that  confession 
from  his  widow's  breast  ?  .  .  .  But  there  was  no  such  pain 
here,  James  :  the  declaration  was  voluntary,  and  it  was  calm. 
Self-collected,  and  gathering  up  all  her  faculties  and  feelings 
into  unshrinking  strength,  she  denounced  before  all  the  world  — 
and  throughout  all  space  and  all  time  —  her  husband,  as  excom 
municated  by  his  vices  from  woman's  bosom. 

"  'Twas  to  vindicate  the  character  of  her  parents  that  Lady 
Byron  wrote,  —  a  holy  purpose  and  devout,  nor  do  I  doubt  sin 
cere.  But  filial  affection  and  reverence,  sacred  as  they  are,  may 
be  blamelessly,  nay,  righteously,  subordinate  to  conjugal  duties, 
which  die  not  with  the  dead,  are  extinguished  not  even  by  the 
sins  of  the  dead,  were  they  as  foul  as  the  grave's  corruption." 

Here  is  what  John  Stuart  Mill  calls  the  lite 
rature  of  slavery  for  woman,  in  length  and 
breadth  ;  and,  that  all  women  may  understand 
the  doctrine,  the  Shepherd  now  takes  up  his  par 
able,  and  expounds  the  true  position  of  the  wife. 
We  render  his  Scotch  into  English :  — 

"  Not  a  few  such  widows  do  I  know,  whom  brutal,  profligate, 
and  savage  husbands  have  brought  to  the  brink  of  the  grave,  — 
as  good,  as  bright,  as  innocent  as,  and  far  more  forgiving  than, 
Lady  Byron.  There  they  sit  in  their  obscure,  rarely-visited  dwell- 


RESULTS    AFTER   LORD    BYRON  S    DEATH.       115 

ings ;  for  sympathy  instructed  by  suffering  knows  well  that  the 
deepest  and  most  hopeless  misery  is  least  given  to  complaint." 

Then  follows  a  pathetic  picture  of  one  such 
widow,  trembling  and  fainting  for  hunger, 
obliged,  on  her  way  to  the  well  for  a  can  of 
water,  her  only  drink,  to  sit  down  on  a  " knowe" 
and  say  a  prayer. 

"  Yet  she's  decently,  yea,  tidily  dressed,  poor  creature  !  in 
sair  worn  widow's  clothes,  a  single  suit  for  Saturday  and  Sun 
day  ;  her  hair,  untimely  gray,  is  neatly  braided  under  her  crape 
cap  ;  and  sometimes,  when  all  is  still  and  solitary  in  the  fields, 
and  all  labor  has  disappeared  into  the  house,  you  may  see  her 
stealing  by  herself,  or  leading  one  wee  orphan  by  the  hand,  with 
another  at  her  breast,  to  the  kirkyard,  where  the  love  of  her 
youth  and  the  husband  of  her  prime  is  buried." 

"Yet,"  says  the  Shepherd,  "he  was  a  brute,  a  ruffian,  a  mon 
ster.  When  drunk,  how  he  raged  and  cursed  and  swore ! 
Often  did  she  dread,  that,  in  his  fits  of  inhuman  passion,  he 
would  have  murdered  the  baby  at  her  breast ;  for  she  had  seen 
him  dash  their  only  little  boy,  a  child  of  eight  years  old,  on  the 
floor,  till  the  blood  gushed  from  his  ears  ;  and  then  the  madman 
threw  himself  down  on  the  body,  and  howled  for  the"  gallows. 
Limmers  haunted  his  door,  and  he  theirs ;  and  it  was  hers  to 
lie,  not  sleep,  in  a  cold,  forsaken  bed,  once  the  bed  of  peace, 


Il6      RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON*S    DEATH. 

affection,  and  perfect  happiness.  Often  he  struck  her ;  and 
once,  when  she  was  pregnant  with  that  very  orphan  now  smil 
ing  on  her  breast,  reaching  out  his  wee  fingers  to  touch  the  flow 
ers  on  his  father's  grave.  .  .  . 

"  But  she  tries  to  smile  among  the  neighbors,  and  speaks  of 
her  boy's  likeness  to  its  father ;  nor,  when  the  conversation 
turns  on  bygone  times,  does  she  fear  to  let  his  name  escape  her 
white  lips,  '  My  Robert ;  the  bairn's  not  ill-favored,  but  he  will 
never  look  like  his  father,'  —  and  such  sayings,  uttered  in  a 
calm,  sweet  voice.  Nay,  I  remember  once  how  her  pale  coun 
tenance  reddened  with  a  sudden  flush  of  pride,  when  a  gossip 
ing  crone  alluded  to  their  wedding ;  and  the  widow's  eye 
brightened  through  her  tears  to  hear  how  the  bridegroom,  sit 
ting  that  sabbath  in  his  front  seat  beside  his  bonny  bride,  had 
not  his  equal  for  strength,  stature,  and  all  that  is  beauty  in  man, 
in  all  the  congregation.  That,  I  say,  sir,  whether  right  or 
wrong,  was  — forgiveness" 

Here  is  a  specimen  of  how  even  generous 
men  had  been  so  perverted  by  the  enchantment 
of  Lord  Byron's  genius,  as  to  turn  all  the  pathos 
and  power  of  the  strongest  literature  of  that 
day  against  the  persecuted,  pure  woman,  and  for 
the  strong,  wicked  man.  These  "  Blackwood  " 
writers  knew,  by  Byron's  own  filthy,  ghastly 


RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON S  DEATH.   1 1/ 

writings,  which  had  gone  sorely  against  their 
own  moral  stomachs,  that  he  was  foul  to  the 
bone.  They  could  'see,  in  Moore's  Memoirs 
right  before  them,  how  he  had  caught  an  inno 
cent  girl's  heart  by  sending  a  love-letter,  and 
offer  of  marriage,  at  the  end  of  a  long  friendly 
correspondence,  —  a  letter  that  had  been  written 
to  show  to  his  libertine  set,  and  sent  on  the  toss- 
up  of  a  copper,  because  he  cared  nothing  for  it 
one  way  or  the  other. 

They  admit,  that,  having  won  this  poor  girl, 
he  had  been  savage,  brutal,  drunken,  cruel. 
They  had  read  the  filthy  taunts  in  "  Don  Juan," 
and  the  nameless  abominations  in  the  Auto 
biography.  They  had  admitted  among  them 
selves  that  his  honor  was  lost ;  but  still  this 
abused,  desecrated  woman  must  reverence  her 
brutal  master's  memory,  and  not  speak,  even  to 
defend  the  grave  of  her  own  kind  father  and 
mother. 

That  there  was  no  lover  of  her  youth, 
that  the  marriage-vow  had  been  a  hideous, 


IlS      RESULTS    AFTER   LORD    BYRON*S    DEATH. 

shameless  cheat,  is  on  the  face  of  Moore's 
account ;  yet  the  "  Blackwood  "  does  not  see  it 
nor  feel  it,  and  brings  up  against  Lady  Byron 
this  touching  story  of  a  poor  widow,  who  really 
had  had  a  true  lover  once,  —  a  lover  maddened, 
imbruted,  lost,  through  that  very  drunkenness 
in  which  the  Noctes  Club  were  always  glorying. 

It  is  because  of  such  transgressors  as  Byron, 
such  supporters  as  Moore  and  the  Noctes  Club, 
that  there  are  so  many  helpless,  cowering, 
broken-hearted,  abject  women,  given  over  to 
the  animal  love  which  they  share  alike  with  the 
poor  dog,  —  the  dog,  who,  beaten,  kicked,  starved, 
and  cuffed,  still  lies  by  his  drunken  master  with 
great  anxious  eyes  of  love  and  sorrow,  and 
with  sweet,  brute  forgiveness  nestles  upon  his 
bosom,  as  he  lies  in  his  filth  in  the  snowy  ditch, 
to  keep  the  warmth  of  life  in  him.  Great  is  the 
mystery  of  this  fidelity  in  the  poor,  loving 
brute,  —  most  mournful  and  most  sacred  ! 

But  oh,  that  a  noble  man  should  have  no  higher 
ideal  of  the  love  of  a  high-souled,  heroic  woman  ! 


RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON  S  DEATH.   119 

Oh,  that  men  should  teach  women  that  they 
have  no  higher  duties,  and  are  capable  of  no 
higher  tenderness,  than  this  loving,  unquestion 
ing  animal  fidelity  !  The  dog  is  ever-loving, 
ever-forgiving,  because  God  has  given  him  no 
high  range  of  moral  faculties,  no  sense  of 
justice,  no  consequent  horror  at  impurity  and 
vileness. 

Much  of  the  beautiful  patience  and  for 
giveness  of  women  is  made  possible  to  them 
by  that  utter  deadness  to  the  sense  of  justice 
which  the  laws,  literature,  and  misunderstood 
religion  of  England  have  sought  to  induce  in 
woman  as  a  special  grace  and  virtue. 

The  lesson  to  woman  in  this  pathetic  piece  of 
special  pleading  is,  that  man  may  sink  himself 
below  the  brute,  may  wallow  in  filth  like  the 
swine,  may  turn  his  home  into  a  hell,  beat  and 
torture  his  children,  forsake  the  marriage-bed 
for  foul  rivals  ;  yet  all  this  does  not  dissolve 

r~ 

the  marriage-vow  on  her  part,  nor  free  his 
bounden  serf  from  her  obligation  to  honor  his 


120   RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON S  DEATH.* 

memory,  —  nay,  to  sacrifice  to  it  the  honor  due 
to  a  kind  father  and  mother,  slandered  in  their 
silent  graves. 

Such  was  the  sympathy,  and  such  the 
advice,  that  the  best  literature  of  England 
could  give  to  a  young  widow,  a  peeress 
of  England,  whose  husband,  as  they  verily 
believed  and  admitted,  might  have  done 
worse  than  all  this  ;  whose  crimes  might  have 
been  "foul,  monstrous,  unforgivable  as  the  sin 
against  the  Holy  Ghost."  If  these  things  be 
done  in  the  green  tree,  what  shall  be  done  in 
the  dry  ?  If  the  peeress  as  a  wife  has  no  rights, 
what  is  the  state  of  the  cotter's  wife  ? 

But,  in  the  same  paper,  North  again  blames 
Lady  Byron  for  not  having  come  out  with  the 
whole  story  before  the  world  at  the  time  she 
separated  from  her  husband.  He  says  of  the 
time  when  she  first  consulted  counsel  through 
her  mother,  keeping  back  one  item,  — 

"  How  weak,  and  worse  than  weak,  at  such  a  juncture,  on 
which  hung  her  whole  fate,  to  ask  legal  advice  on  an  imperfect 


RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON S  DEATH.   121 

document !  Give  the  delicacy  of  a  virtuous  woman  its  due ; 
but  at  such  a  crisis,  when  the  question  was  whether  her  con 
science  was  to  be  free  from  the  oath  of  oaths,  delicacy  should 
have  died,  and  nature  was  privileged  to  show  unashamed  —  if 
such  there  were  —  the  records  of  uttermost  pollution." 

Shepherd.  —  "  And  what  think  ye,  sir,  that  a'  this  pollution 
could  hae  been,  that  sae  electrified  Dr.  Lushington  ? " 

North.  —  "  Bad  —  bad  —  bad,  James.  Nameless,  it  is  horri 
ble  :  named,  it  might  leave  Byron's  memory  yet  within  the 
range  of  pity  and  forgiveness  ;  and,  where  they  are,  their  sister 
affections  will  not  be  far ;  though,  like  weeping  seraphs,  stand 
ing  aloof,  and  veiling  their  wings." 

Shepherd.  —  "  She  should,  indeed  hae  been  silent  —  till  the 
grave  had  closed  on  her  sorrows  as  on  his  sins." 

North.  —  "Even  now  she  should  speak,  —  or  some  one  else  for 
her,  —  ...  and  a  few  words  will  suffice.  Worse  the  condition  of 
the  dead  man's  name  cannot  be  —  far,  far  better  it  might  —  I 
believe  it  would  be  —  were  all  the  truth  somehow  or  other 
declared ;  and  declared  it  must  be,  not  for  Byron's  sake  only, 
but  for  the  sake  of  humanity  itself;  and  then  a  mitigated  sen 
tence,  or  eternal  silence." 

We  have  another  discussion  of  Lady  Byron's 
duties  in  a  further  number  of  "  Blackwood." 

The  Memoir  being  out,  it  was  proposed  that 
there  should  be  a  complete  annotation  of 


122      RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    LYRON's    DEATH. 

Byron's  works  gotten  up,  and  adorned,  for  the 
further  glorification  of  his  memory,  with  portraits 
of  the  various  women  whom  he  had  delighted  to 
honor. 

Murray  applied  to  Lady  Byron  for  her  por 
trait,  and  was  met  with  a  cold,  decided  negative. 
After  reading  all  the  particulars  of  Byron's 
harem  of  mistresses,  and  Moore's  comparisons 
between  herself  and  La  Guiccioli,  one  might 
imagine  reasons  why  a  lady,  with  proper  self- 
respect,  should  object  to  appearing  in  this 
manner.  One  would  suppose  there  might  have 
been  gentlemen  who  could  well  appreciate  the 
motive  of  that  refusal  ;  but  it  was  only  con 
sidered  a  new  evidence  that  she  was  indifferent 
to  her  conjugal  duties,  and  wanting  in  that 
respect  which  Christopher  North  had  told  her 
she  owed  a  husband's  memory,  though  his 
crimes  were  foul  as  the  rottenness  of  the  grave. 

Never,  since  Queen  Vashti  refused  to  come 
at  the  command  of  a  drunken  husband  to 
show  herself  to  his  drunken  lords,  was  there 


RESULTS    AFTER   LORD    BYRON S    DEATH.       123 

a  clearer  case  of  disrespect  to  the  marital  dig 
nity  on  the  part  of  a  wife.  It  was  a  plain  act 
of  insubordination,  rebellion  against  law  and 
order  ;  and  how  shocking  in  Lady  Byron,  who 
ought  to  feel  herself  but  too  much  flattered  to 
be  exhibited  to  the  public  as  the  head  wife  of  a 
man  of  genius  ! 

Means  were  at  once  adopted  to  subdue  her 
contumacy,  of  which  one  may  read  in  a  note  to 
the  "Blackwood"  (Noctes),  September,  1832. 
An  artist  was  sent  down  to  Ealing  to  take  her 
picture  by  stealth  as  she  sat  in  church.  Two 
sittings  were  thus  obtained  without  her  knowl 
edge.  In  the  third  one,  the  artist  placed  himself 
boldly  before  her,  and  sketched,  so  that  she  could 
not  but  observe  him.  We  shall  give  the  rest  in 
Mackenzie's  own  words,  as  a  remarkable  speci 
men  of  the  obtuseness,  not  to  say  indelicacy  of 
feeling,  which  seemed  to  pervade  the  literary 
circles  of  England  at  the  time :  — 

"  After  prayers,  Wright  and  his  friend  (the  artist)  were 
visited  by  an  ambassador  from  her  ladyship  to  inquire  the 


124      RESULTS   AFTER   LORD    BYRON'S    DEATH. 


meaning  of  what  she  had  seen.  The  reply  was,  that  Mr.  Murray 
irncst  have  her  portrait,  and  was  compelled  to  take  what  she  re 
fused  to  give.  The  result  was,  Wright  was  requested  to  visit 
her,  which  he  did ;  taking  with  him,  not  the  sketch,  which  was 
very  good,  but  another,  in  which  there  was  a  strong  touch  of 
caricature.  Rather  than  allow  that  to  appear  as  her  likeness 
(a  very  natural  and  womanly  feeling  by  the  way),  she  consented 
to  sit  for  the  portrait  to  W.  J.  Newton,  which  was  engraved, 
and  is  here  alluded  to." 

The  artless  barbarism  of  this  note  is  too  good 
to  be  lost ;  but  it  is  quite  borne  out  by  the  con 
versation  in  the  Noctes  Club,  which  it  illus 
trates. 

It  would  appear  from  this  conversation  that 
these  Byron  beauties  appeared  successively  in 
pamphlet  form  ;  and  the  picture  of  Lady  Byron 
is  thus  discussed  :  — 

Mullion.  —  "I  don't  know  if  you  have  seen  the  last  brochure. 
It  has  a  charming  head  of  Lady  Byron,  who,  it  seems,  sat  on 
purpose  :  and  that's  very  agreeable  to  hear  of;  for  it  shows  her 
ladyship  has  got  over  any  little  soreness  that  Moore's  Life 
occasioned,  and  is  now  willing  to  contribute  any  thing  in  her 
power  to  the  real  monument  of  Byron's  genius." 


RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON'S    DEATH.        125 

North.  —  "I  am  delighted  to  hear  of  this  :  'tis  really  very 
noble  in  the  unfortunate  lady.  I  never  saw  her.  Is  the  face  a 
striking  one  ? " 

Mullion.  —  "  Eminently  so,  —  a  most  calm,  pensive,  melan 
choly  style  of  native  beauty,  —  and  a  most  touching  contrast  to 
the  maids  of  Athens,  Annesley,  and  all  the  rest  of  them.  I'm 
sure  you'll  have  the  proof  Finden  has  sent  you  framed  for 
the  Boudoir  at  the  Lodge." 

North.  —  "  By  all  means.  I  mean  to  do  that  for  all  the  Byron 
Beauties." 

But  it  may  be  asked,  Was  there  not  a  man  in 
all  England  with  delicacy  enough  to  feel  for 
Lady  Byron,  and  chivalry  enough  to  speak  a 
bold  word  for  her  ?  Yes :  there  was  one. 
Thomas  Campbell  the  poet,  when  he  read  Lady 
Byron's  statement,  believed  it,  as  did  Christo 
pher  North ;  but  it  affected  him  differently. 
It  appears  he  did  not  believe  it  a  wife's  duty  to 
burn  herself  on  her  husband's  funeral-pile,  as 
did  Christopher  North  ;  and  held  the  singular 
idea,  that  a  wife  had  some  rights  as  a  human 
being  as  well  as  a  husband. 

Lady    Byron's    own    statement   appeared    in 


126   RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON's  DEATH. 

pamphlet  form  in  1830:  at  least,  such  is  the 
date  at  the  foot  of  the  document.  Thomas 
Campbell,  in  "The  New  Monthly  Magazine," 
shortly  after,  printed  a  spirited,  gentlemanly 
defence  of  Lady  Byron,  and  administered  a 
pointed  rebuke  to  Moore  for  the  rudeness  and 
indelicacy  he  had  shown  in  selecting  from 
Byron's  letters  the  coarsest  against  herself,  her 
parents,  and  her  old  governess  Mrs.  Clermont, 
and  by  the  indecent  comparisons  he  had  in 
stituted  between  Lady  Byron  and  Lord  Byron's 
last  mistress. 

It  is  refreshing  to  hear,  at  last,  from  somebody 
who  is  not  altogether  on  his  knees  at  the  feet  of 
the  popular  idol,  and  who  has  some  chivalry  for 
woman,  and  some  idea  of  common  humanity. 
He  says,  — 

"  I  found  my  right  to  speak  on  this  painful  subject,  on  its 
now  irrevocable  publicity,  brought  up  afresh  as  it  has  been  by 
Mr.  Moore,  to  be  the  theme  of  discourse  to  millions,  and,  if  I 
err  not  much,  the  cause  of  misconception  to  innumerable  minds. 
I  claim  to  speak  of  Lady  Byron  in  the  right  of  a  man,  and  of  a 
friend  to  the  rights  of  woman,  and  to  liberty,  and  to  natural 


RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON S    DEATH.       I2/ 

religion.  I  claim  a  right,  more  especially,  as  one  of  the  many 
friends  of  Lady  Byron,  who,  one  and  all,  feel  aggrieved  by  this 
production.  It  has  virtually  dragged  her  forward  from  the 
shade  of  retirement,  where  she  had  hid  her  sorrows,  and  com 
pelled  her  to  defend  the  heads  of  her  friends  and  her  parents 
from  being  crushed  under  the  tombstone  of  Byron.  Nay,  in  a 
general  view,  it  has  forced  her  to  defend  herself ;  though,  with 
her  true  sense  and  her  pure  taste,  she  stands  above  all  special 
pleading.  To  plenary  explanation  she  ought  not  —  she  never 
shall  be  driven.  Mr.  Moore  is  too  much  a  gentleman  not  to 
shudder  at  the  thought  of  that ;  but  if  other  Byronists,  of  a 
far  different  stamp,  were  to  force  the  savage  ordeal,  it  is  her 
enemies,  and  not  she,  that  would  have  to  dread  the  burning 
ploughshares. 

"  We,  her  friends,  have  no  wish  to  prolong  the  discussion  : 
but  a  few  words  we  must  add,  even  to  her  admirable  statement ; 
for  hers  is  a  cause  not  only  dear  to  her  friends,  but  having 
become,  from  Mr.  Moore  and  her  misfortunes,  a  publicly- 
agitated  cause,  it  concerns  morality,  and  the  most  sacred  rights 
of  the  sex,  that  she  should  (and  that,  too,  without  more  special 
explanations)  be  acquitted  out  and  out,  and  honorably  ac 
quitted,  in  this  business,  of  all  share  in  the  blame,  which  is  one 
and  indivisible.  Mr.  Moore,  on  further  reflection,  may  see 
this  ;  and  his  return  to  candor  will  surprise  us  less  than  his 
momentary  deviation  from  its  path. 

"  For  the  tact  of  Mr.  Moore's  conduct  in  this  affair,  I  have 
not  to  answer  ;  but,  if  indelicacy  be  charged  upon  me,  I  scorn 


128      RESULTS   AFTER    LORD    BYRON'S    DEATH. 

the  charge.  Neither  will  I  submit  to  be  called  Lord  Byron's 
accuser ;  because  a  word  against  him  I  wish  not  to  say 
beyond  what  is  painfully  wrung  from  me  by  the  necessity  of 
owning  or  illustrating  Lady  Byron's  unblamableness,  and. of 
repelling  certain  misconceptions  respecting  her,  which  are  now 
walking  the  fashionable  world,  and  which  have  been  fostered 
(though  Heaven  knows  where  they  were  born)  most  delicately 
and  warily  by  the  Christian  godfathership  of  Mr.  Moore. 

"  I  write  not  at  Lady  Byron's  bidding.  I  have  never 
humiliated  either  her  or  myself  by  asking  if  I  should  write, 
or  what  I  should  write  ;  that  is  to  say,  I  never  applied  to  her 
for  information  against  Lord  Byron,, though  I  was  justified,  as 
one  intending  to  criticise  Mr.  Moore,  in  inquiring  into  the 
truth  of  some  of  his  statements.  Neither  will  I  suffer  myself 
to  be  called  her  champion,  if  by  that  word  be  meant  the 
advocate  of  her  mere  legal  innocence ;  for  that,  I  take  it, 
nobody  questions. 

"  Still  less  is  it  from  the  sorry  impulse  of  pity  that  I  speak 
of  this  noble  woman  ;  for  I  look  with  wonder  and  even  envy  at 
the  proud  purity  of  her  sense  and  conscience,  that  have  car 
ried  her  exquisite  sensibilities  in  triumph  through  such  poign 
ant  tribulations.  But  I  am  proud  to  be  called  her  friend, 
the  humble  illustrator  of  her  cause,  and  the  advocate  of  those 
principles  which  make  it  to  me  more  interesting  than  Lord 
Byron's.  Lady  Byron  (if  the  subject  must  be  discussed) 
belongs  to  sentiment  and  morality  (at  least  as  much  as  Lord 
Byron) ;  nor  is  she  to  be  suffered,  when  compelled  to  speak, 


RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON S    DEATH.       1 29 

to  raise  her  voice  as  in  a  desert,  with  no  friendly  voice  to 
respond  to  her.  Lady  Byron  could  not  have  outlived  her 
sufferings  if  she  had  not  wound  up  her  fortitude  to  the  high 
point  of  trusting  mainly  for  consolation,  not  to  the  opinion  of 
the  world,  but  to  her  own  inward  peace  ;  and,  having  said 
what  ought  to  convince  the  world,  I  verily  believe  that  she  has 
less  care  about  the  fashionable  opinion  respecting  her  than  any 
of  her  friends  can  have.  But  we,  her  friends,  mix  with  the 
world  ;  and  we  hear  offensive  absurdities  about  her,  which  we 
have  a  right  to  put  down. 

"  I  proceed  to  deal  more  generally  with  Mr.  Moore's 
book.  You  speak,  Mr.  Moore,  against  Lord  Byron's  censurers 
in  a  tone  of  indignation  which  is  perfectly  lawful  towards 
calumnious  traducers,  but  which  will  not  terrify  me,  or  any 
other  man  of  courage  who  is  no  calumniator,  from  uttering  his 
mind  freely  with  regard  to  this  part  of  your  hero's  conduct.  I 
question  your  philosophy  in  assuming  that  all  that  is  noble  in 
Byron's  poetry  was  inconsistent  with  the  possibility  of  his 
being  devoted  to  a  pure  and  good  woman ;  and  I  repudiate 
your  morality  for  canting  too  complacently  about  '  the  lava  of 
his  imagination,'  and  the  unsettled  fever  of  his  passions,  being 
any  excuses  for  his  planting  the  tic  douloureux  of  domestic 
suffering  in  a  meek  woman's  bosom. 

"  These  are  hard  words,  Mr.  Moore  ;  but  you  have  brought 
them  on  yourself  by  your  voluntary  ignorance  of  facts  known 
to  me :  for  you  might  and  ought  to  have  known  both  sides 


I3O      RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON S    DEATH. 

of  the  question  ;  and,  if  the  subject  was  too  delicate  for  you 
to  consult  Lady  Byron's  confidential  friends,  you  ought  to  have 
had  nothing  to  do  with  the  subject.  But  you  cannot  have  sub 
mitted  your  book  even  to  Lord  Byron's  sister,  otherwise  she 
would  have  set  you  right  about  the  imaginary  spy,  Mrs. 
Clermont." 

Campbell  now  goes  on  to  print,  at  his  own 
peril,  he  says,  and  without  time  to  ask  leave,  the 
following  note  from  Lady  Byron  in  reply  to  an 
application  he  made  to  her,  when  he  was  about 
to  review  Moore's  book,  for  an  "  estimate  as  to 
the  correctness  of  Moore's  statements." 

The  following  is  Lady  Byron's  reply  :  — 

"  DEAR  MR.  CAMPBELL,  —  In  taking  up  my  pen  to  point  out 
for  your  private  information  *  those  passages  in  Mr.  Moore's 
representation  of  my  part  of  the  story  which  were  open  to  con 
tradiction,  I  find  them  of  still  greater  extent  than  I  had  sup 
posed  ;  and  to  deny  an  assertion  here  and  there  would  virtually 
admit  the  truth  of  the  rest.  If,  on  the  contrary,  I  were  to  enter 
into  a  full  exposure  of  the  falsehood  of  the  views  taken  by  Mr. 
Moore,  I  must  detail  various  matters,  which,  consistently  with 

"  I  [Campbell]  had  not  time  to  ask  Lady  Byron's  permission  to  print 
this  private  letter  ;  but  it  seemed  to  me  important,  and  I  have  published  it 
meo  periculo." 


RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON  S    DEATH.       1 3 1 

my  principles  and  feelings,  I  cannot  under  the  existing  circum 
stances  disclose.  I  may,  perhaps,  convince  you  better  of  the 
difficulty  of  the  case  by  an  example  :  It  is  not  true  that  pecu 
niary  embarrassments  were  the  cause  of  the  disturbed  state  of 
Lord  Byron's  mind,  or  formed  the  chief  reason  for  the  arrange 
ments  made  by  him  at  that  time.  But  is  it  reasonable  for  me 
to  expect  that  you  or  any  one  else  should  believe  this,  unless  I 
show  you  what  were  the  causes  in  question  ?  and  this  I  cannot 
do.  .  "  I  am,  &c., 

"A.  I.  NOEL  BYRON." 

Campbell  then  goes  on  to  reprove  Moore  for 
his  injustice  to  Mrs.  Clermont,  whom  Lord  Byron 
had  denounced  as  a  spy,  but  whose  respecta 
bility  and  innocence  were  vouched  for  by  Lord 
Byron's  own  family ;  and  then  he  pointedly 
rebukes  one  false  statement  of  great  indelicacy 
and  cruelty  concerning  Lady  Byron's  courtship, 
as  follows  :  — 

"  It  is  a  further  mistake  on  Mr.  Moore's  part,  and  I  can 
prove  it  to  be  so,  if  proof  be  necessary,  to  represent  Lady 
Byron,  in  the  course  of  their  courtship,  as  one  inviting  her  future 
husband  to  correspondence  by  letters  after  she  had  at  first 
refused  him.  She  never  proposed  a  correspondence.  On  the 
contrary,  he  sent  her  a  message  after  that  first  refusal,  stating 


132       RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON S    DEATH. 

that  he  meant  to  go  abroad,  and  to  travel  for  some  years  in  the 
East ;  that  he  should  depart  with  a  heart  aching,  but  not 
angry ;  and  that  he  only  begged  a  verbal  assurance  that  she 
had  still  some  interest  in  his  happiness.  Could  Miss  Milbanke, 
as  a  well-bred  woman,  refuse  a  courteous  answer  to  such  a 
message  ?  She  sent  him  a  verbal  answer,  which  was  merely 
kind  and  becoming,  but  which  signified  no  encouragement  that 
he  should  renew  his  offer  of  marriage. 

"  After  that  message,  he  wrote  to  her  a  most  interesting  letter 
about  himself,  —  about  his  views,  personal,  moral,  and  reli 
gious,  —  to  which  it  would  have  been  uncharitable  not  to  have 
replied.  The  result  was  an  insensibly  increasing  corre 
spondence,  which  ended  in  her  being  devotedly  attached  to 
him.  About  that  time,  I  occasionally  saw  Lord  Byron ;  and 
though  I  knew  less  of  him  than  Mr.  Moore,  yet  I  suspect 
I  knew  as  much  of  him  as  Miss  Milbanke  then  knew.  At  that 
time,  he  was  so  pleasing,  that,  if  I  had  had  a  daughter  with 
ample  fortune  and  beauty,  I  should  have  trusted  her  in  marriage 
with  Lord  Byron. 

"  Mr.  Moore  at  that  period  evidently  understood  Lord  Byron 
better  than  either  his  future  bride  or  myself ;  but  this  speaks 
more  for  Moore's  shrewdness  than  for  Byron's  ingenuousness 
of  character. 

"  It  is  more  for  Lord  Byron's  sake  than  for  his  widow's  that 
I  resort  not  to  a  more  special  examination  of  Mr.  Moore's  mis 
conceptions.  The  subject  would  lead  me  insensibly  into  hateful 
disclosures  against  poor  Lord  Byron,  who  is  more  unfortunate 


RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON S    DEATH.       133 

in  his  rash  defenders  than  in  his  reluctant  accusers.  Happily, 
his  own  candor  turns  our  hostility  from  himself  against  his  de 
fenders.  It  was  only  in  wayward  and  bitter  remarks  that  he 
misrepresented  Lady  Byron.  He  would  have  defended  himself 
irresistibly  if  Mr.  Moore  had  left  only  his  acknowledging  pas 
sages.  But  Mr.  Moore  has  produced  a  Life  of  him  which 
reflects  blame  on  Lady  Byron  so  dexterously,  that  '  more  is 
meant  than  meets  the  ear.'  The  almost  universal  impression 
produced  by  his  book  is,  that  Lady  Byron  must  be  a  precise 
and  a  wan,  unwarming  spirit,  a  blue-stocking  of  chilblained 
learning,  a  piece  of  insensitive  goodness. 

"  Who  that  knows  Lady  Byron  will  not  pronounce  her  to  be 
every  thing  the  reverse  ?  Will  it  be  believed  that  this  person, 
so  unsuitably  matched  to  her  moody  lord,  has  written  verses 
that  would  do  no  discredit  to  Byron  himself;  that  her  sensi 
tiveness  is  surpassed  and  bounded  only  by  her  good  sense  ; 
and  that  she  is 

'  Blest  with  a  temper,  whose  unclouded  ray 
Can  make  to-morrow  cheerful  as  to-day  '  ? 

"  She  brought  to  Lord  Byron  beauty,  manners,  fortune, 
meekness,  romantic  affection,  and  every  thing  that  ought  to  have 
made  her  to  the  most  transcendent  man  of  genius — had  he 
been  what  he  should  have  been  —  his  pride  and  his  idol.  I  speak 
not  of  Lady  Byron  in  the  commonplace  manner  of  attesting 
character  :  I  appeal  to  the  gifted  Mrs.  Siddons  and  Joanna 
Baillie,  to  Lady  Charlemont,  and  to  other  ornaments  of  their 


134       RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON'S    DEATH. 

sex,  whether  I  am  exaggerating  in  the  least  when  I  say,  that,  in 
their  whole  lives,  they  have  seen  few  beings  so  intellectual  and 
well-tempered  as  Lady  Byron. 

"  I  wish  to  be  as  ingenuous  as  possible  in  speaking  of  her. 
Her  manner,  I  have  no  hesitation  to  say,  is  cool  at  the  first 
interview,  but  is  modestly,  and  not  insolently,  cool  :  she  con 
tracted  it,  I  believe,  from  being  exposed  by  her  beauty  and 
large  fortune,  in  youth,  to  numbers  of  suitors,  whom  she 
could  not  have  otherwise  kept  at  a  distance.  But  this 
manner  could  have  had  no  influence  with  Lord  Byron  ;  for 
it  vanishes  on  nearer  acquaintance,  and  has  no  origin  in  cold 
ness.  All  her  friends  like  her  frankness  the  better  for  being 
preceded  by  this  reserve.  This  manner,  however,  though  not 
the  slightest  apology  for  Lord  Byron,  has  been  inimical  to  Lady 
Byron  in  her  misfortunes.  It  endears  her  to  her  friends ;  but  it 
piques  the  indifferent.  Most  odiously  unjust,  therefore,  is  Mr. 
Moore's  assertion,  that  she  has  had  the  advantage  of  Lord 
Byron  in  public  opinion.  She  is,  comparatively  speaking,  un 
known  to  the  world  ;  for  though  she  has  many  friends,  that  is, 
a  friend  in  every  one  who  knows  her,  yet  her  pride  and  purity 
and  misfortunes  naturally  contract  the  circle  of  her  acquaint 
ance. 

"  There  is  something  exquisitely  unjust  in  Mr.  Moore  com 
paring  her  chance  of  popularity  with  Lord  Byron's,  the  poet 
who  can  command  men  of  talents,  —  putting  even  Mr.  Moore 
into  the  livery  of  his  service,  —  and  who  has  suborned  the  favor 
of  almost  all  women  by  the  beauty  of  his  person  and  the  volup- 


RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON  S  DEATH.   135 

tuousness  of  his  verses.  Lady  Byron  has  nothing  to  oppose  to 
these  fascinations  but  the  truth  and  justice  of  her  cause. 

"  You  said,  Mr.  Moore,  that  Lady  Byron  was  unsuitable  to 
her  lord  :  the  word  is  cunningly  insidious,  and  may  mean  as 
much  or  as  little  as  may  suit  your  convenience.  But,  if  she  was 
unsuitable,  I  remark  that  it  tells  all  the  worse  against  Lord 
Byron.  I  have  not  read  it  in  your  book  (for  I  hate  to  wade 
through  it) ;  but  they  tell  me  that  you  have  not  only  warily 
depreciated  Lady  Byron,  but  that  you  have  described  a  lady 
that  would  have  suited  him.  If  this  be  true,  'it  is  the  unkindest 
cut  of  all,'  — to  hold  up  a  florid  description  of  a  woman  suitable 
to  Lord  Byron,  as  if  in  mockery  over  the  forlorn  flower  of  vir 
tue  that  was  drooping  in  the  solitude  of  sorrow. 

"But  I  trust  there  is  no  such  passage  in  your  book.  Surely 
you  must  be  conscious  of  your  woman,  with  her  '  -virtue  loose 
about  her,  who  would  have  suited  Lord  Byron?  to  be  as  imagi 
nary  a  being  as  the  woman  without  a  head.  A  woman  to  suit 
Lord  Byron  !  Poo,  poo  !  I  could  paint  to  you  the  woman 
that  could  have  matched  him,  if  I  had  not  bargained  to  say  as 
little  as  possible  against  him. 

"  If  Lady  Byron  was  not  suitable  to  Lord  Byron,  so  much 
the  worse  for  his  lordship  ;  for  let  me  tell  you,  Mr.  Moore, 
that  neither  your  poetry,  nor  Lord  Byron's,  nor  all  our  poetry 
put  together,  ever  delineated  a  more  interesting  being  than  the 
woman  whom  you  have  so  coldly  treated.  This  was  not  kick 
ing  the  dead  lion,  but  wounding  the  living  lamb,  who  was 
already  bleeding  and  shorn,  even  unto  the  quick.  I  know,  that, 


136      RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON'S    DEATH. 

collectively  speaking,  the  world  is  in  Lady  Byron's  favor  ;  but 
it  is  coldly  favorable,  and  you  have  not  warmed  its  breath. 
Time,  however,  cures  every  thing  ;  and  even  your  book,  Mr. 
Moore,  may  be  the  means  of  Lady  Byron's  character  being 
better  appreciated.  "  THOMAS  CAMPBELL." 

Here  is  what  seems  to  be  a  gentlemanly,  high- 
spirited,  chivalric  man,  throwing  down  his  glove 
in  the  lists  for  a  pure  woman. 

What  was  the  consequence  ?  Campbell  was 
crowded  back,  thrust  down,  overwhelmed,  his 
eyes  filled  with  dust,  his  mouth  with  ashes. 

There  was  a  general  confusion  and  outcry, 
which  re-acted  both  on  him  and  on  Lady  Byron. 
Her  friends  were  angry  with  him  for  having 
caused  this  re-action  upon  her  ;  and  he  found 
himself  at  once  attacked  by  Lady  Byron's  ene 
mies,  and  deserted  by  her  friends.  All  the  lite 
rary  authorities  of  his  day  took  up  against  him 
with  energy.  Christopher  North,  professor  of 
moral  philosophy  in  the  Edinburgh  University, 
in  a  fatherly  talk  in  "  The  Noctes,"  condemns 
Campbell,  and  justifies  Moore,  and  heartily  rec- 


RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON  S    DEATH.       137 

ommends  his  Biography,  as  containing  nothing 
materially  objectionable  on  the  score  either  of 
manners  or  morals.  Thus  we  have  it  in  "  The 
Noctes  "  of  May,  1830  :  - 

"  Mr.  Moore's  biographical  book  I  admired ;  and  I  said  so  to 
my  little  world,  in  two  somewhat  lengthy  articles,  which  many 
approved,  and  some,  I  am  sorry  to  know,  condemned." 

On  the  point  in  question  between  Moore  and 
Campbell,  North  goes  on  to  justify  Moore  alto 
gether,  only  admitting  that  "  it  would  have  been 
better  had  he  not  printed  any  coarse  expres 
sion  of  Byron's  about  the  old  people  ; "  and, 
finally,  he  closes  by  saying,  — 

"I  do  not  think,  that,  under  the  circumstances,  Mr.  Camp 
bell  himself,  had  he  written  Byron's  Life,  could  have  spoken,  with 
the  sentiments  he  then  held,  in  a  better.,  more  manly,  and  more 
gentlemanly  spirit,  in  so  far  as  regards  Lady  Byron,  than  Mr. 
Moore  did  :  and  I  am  sorry  he  has  been  deterred  from  '  swim 
ming  '  through  Mr.  Moore's  work  by  the  fear  of  '  wading  ; '  for 
the  waters  are  clear  and  deep  ;  nor  is  there  any  mud,  either  at 
the  bottom  or  round  the  margin." 


138       RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON'S    DEATH. 

Of  the  conduct  of  Lady  Byron's  so-called 
friends  on  this  occasion  it  is  more  difficult  to 
speak. 

There  has  always  been  in  England,  as  John 
Stuart  Mill  says,  a  class  of  women  who  glory  in 
the  utter  self-abnegation  of  the  wife  to  the  hus 
band,  as  the  special  crown  of  womanhood.  Their 
patron  saint  is  the  Griselda  of  Chaucer,  who, 
when  her  husband  humiliates  her,  and  treats  her 
as  a  brute,  still  accepts  all  with  meek,  unquestion 
ing,  uncomplaining  devotion.  He  tears  her  from 
her  children  ;  he  treats  her  with  personal  abuse  ; 
he  repudiates  her,  —  sends  her  out  to  nakedness 
and  poverty  ;  he  installs  another  mistress  in  his 
house,  and  sends  for  the  first  to  be  her  hand 
maid  and  his  own  :  and  all  this  the  meek  saint 
accepts  in  the  words  of  Milton, — 

"  My  guide  and  head, 
What  thou  hast  said  is  just  and  right." 

Accordingly,  Miss  Martineau  tells  us,  that 
when  Campbell's  defence  came  out,  coupled  with 
a  note  from  Lady  Byron,  — 


RESULTS  AFTER    LORD    BYRON  S    DEATH.       139 

"  The  first  obvious  remark  was,  that  there  was  no  real 
disclosure ;  and  the  whole  affair  had  the  appearance  of  a 
desire,  on  the  part  of  Lady  Byron,  to  exculpate  herself,  while 
yet  no  adequate  information  was  given.  Many,  who  had  re 
garded  her  with  favor  till  then,  gave  her  up  so  far  as  to  believe 
that  feminine  weakness  had  prevailed  at  last." 

The  saint  had  fallen  from  he'r  pedestal !  She 
had  shown  a  human  frailty  !  Quite  evidently 
she  is  not  a  Griselda,  but  possessed  with  a 
shocking  desire  to  exculpate  herself  and  her 
friends. 

Is  it,  then,  only  to  slandered  men  that  the 
privilege  belongs  of  desiring  to  exculpate  them 
selves  and  their  families  and  their  friends  from 
unjust  censure  ? 

Lord  Byron  had  made  it  a  life-long  object  to 
vilify  and  defame  his  wife.  He  had  used  for 
that  one  particular  purpose  every  talent  that  he 
possessed.  He  had  left  it  as  a  last  charge  to 
Moore  to  pursue  the  warfare  after  death,  which 
Moore  had  done  to  some  purpose  ;  and  Christo 
pher  North  had  informed  Lady  Byron  that  her 


I4O      RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON  S    DEATH. 

private  affairs  were  discussed,  not  only  with  the 
whiskey-toddy  of  the  Noctes  Club,  but  in  every 
drawing-room  in  May  Fair;  and  declared  that 
the  "  Dear  Duck  "  letter,  and  various  other  mat 
ters,  must  be  explained,  and  urged  somebody  to 
speak ;  and  then,  when  Campbell  does  speak  with 
all  the  energy  of  a  real  gentleman,  a  general  out 
cry  and  an  indiscriminate  melee  is  the  result. 

The  world,  with  its  usual  injustice,  insisted  on 
attributing  Campbell's  defence  to  Lady  Byron. 

The  reasons  for  this  seemed  to  be,  first,  that 
Campbell  states  that  he  did  not  ask  Lady  By 
ron's  leave,  and  that  she  did  not  authorize  him 
to  defend  her  ;  and,  second,  that,  having  asked 
some  explanations  from  her,  he  prints  a  note  in 
which  she  declines  to  give  any. 

We  know  not  how  a  lady  could  more  gently 
yet  firmly  decline  to  make  a  gentleman  her 
confidant  than  in  this  published  note  of  Lady 
Byron  ;  and  yet,  to  this  day,  Campbell  is  spoken 
of  by  the  world  as  having  been  Lady  Byron's 
confidant  at  this  time.  This  simply  shows  how 


RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON  S    DEATH.        14! 

very  trustworthy  are  the  general  assertions  about 
Lady  Byron's  confidants. 

The  final  result  of  the  matter,  so  far  as  Camp 
bell  was  concerned,  is  given  in  Miss  Martineau's 
sketch,  in  the  following  paragraph  :  — 

"  The  whole  transaction  was  one  of  poor  Campbell's  freaks. 
He  excused  himself  by  saying  it  was  a  mistake  of  his  ;  that  he 
did  not  know  what  he  was  about  when  he  published  the  paper." 

It  is  the  saddest  of  all  sad  things  to  see  a 
man,  who  has  spoken  from  moral  convictions,  in 
advance  of  his  day,  and  who  has  taken  a  stand 
for  which  he  ought  to  honor  himself,  thus  forced 
down  and  humiliated,  made  to  doubt  his  own 

better  nature  and    his  own  honorable  feelings, 

f 

by  the  voice  of  a  wicked  world. 

Campbell  had  no  steadiness  to  stand  by  the 
truth  he  saw.  His  whole  story  is  told  inci 
dentally  in  a  note  to  "  The  Noctes,"  in  which 
it  is  stated,  that  in  an  article  in  "  Blackwood," 
January,  1825,  on  Scotch  poets,  the  palm  was 
given  to  Hogg  over  Campbell  ;  "  one  ground 


142       RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON'S    DEATH. 

being,  that  he  could  drink  'eight  and  twenty 
tumblers  of  punch,  while  Campbell  is  hazy  upon 
seven.' " 

There  is  evidence  in  "  The  Noctes,"  that  in 
due  time  Campbell  was  reconciled  to  Moore,  and 
was  always  suitably  ashamed  of  having  tried  to 
be  any  more  generous  or  just  than  the  men  of 
his  generation. 

And  so  it  was  settled  as  a  law  to  Jacob,  and 
an  ordinance  in  Israel,  that  the  Byron  worship 
should  proceed,  and  that  all  the  earth  should 
keep  silence  before  him.  "  Don  Juan,"  that, 
years  before,  had  been  printed  by  stealth,  without 
Murray's  name  on  the  titlepage,  that  had  been 
denounced  as  a  book  which  no  woman  should 
read,  and  had  been  given  up  as  a  desperate  enter 
prise,  now  came  forth  in  triumph,  with  banners 
flying  and  drums  beating.  Every  great  periodi 
cal  in  England  that  had  fired  moral  volleys  of 
artillery  against  it  in  its  early  days,  now  humbly 
marched  in  the  glorious  procession  of  admirers 
to  salute  this  edifying  work  of  genius. 


RESULTS    AFTER   LORD    BYRON  S    DEATH.       143 

"  Blackwood,"  which  in  the  beginning  had 
been  the  most  indignantly  virtuous  of  the  whole, 
now  grovelled  and  ate  dust  as  the  serpent  in 
the  very  abjectness  of  submission.  Odoherty 
(Maginn)  declares  that  he  would  rather  have 
written  a  page  of  "  Don  Juan  "  than  a  ton  of 
"  Childe  Harold."  *  Timothy  Tickler  informs 
Christopher  North  that  he  means  to  tender  Mur 
ray,  as  Emperor  of  the  North,  an  interleaved 
copy  f  of  "  Don  Juan,"  with  illustrations,  as  the 
only  work  of  Byron's  he  cares  much  about  ;  and 
Christopher  North,  professor  of  moral  philoso 
phy  in  Edinburgh,  smiles  approval !  We  are  not, 
after  this,  surprised  to  see  the  assertion,  by  a 
recent  much-aggrieved  writer  in  "  The  London 
Era,"  that  "  Lord  Byron  has  been,  more  than 
any  other  man  of  the  age,  the  teacher  of  the 
youth  of  England  ;  "  and  that  he  has  "  seen  his 
works  on  the  bookshelves  of  bishops  palaces,  no 
less  than  the  tables  of  university  under-gradu- 
ates." 

*  Noctes,  July,  1822.  t  Noctes,  September,  1832. 


144       RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON S    DEATH. 

A  note  to  "The  Noctes  "  of  July,  1822,  in 
forms  us  of  another  instance  of  Lord  Byron's 
triumph  over  English  morals  :  — 

"The  mention  of  this"  (Byron's  going  to  Greece)  "reminds 
me,  by  the  by,  of  what  the  Guiccioli  said  in  her  visit  to  Lon 
don,  where  she  was  so  lionized  as  having  been  the  lady-love  of 
Byron.  She  was  rather  fond  of  speaking  on  the  subject,  des 
ignating  herself  by  some  Venetian  pet  phrase,  which  she  inter 
preted  as  meaning  '  Love-Wife/  " 

What  was  Lady  Byron  to  do  in  such  a  world  ? 
She  retired  to  the  deepest  privacy,  and  devoted 
herself  to  works  of  charity,  and  the  education  of 
her  only  child,  —  that  brilliant  daughter,  to  whose 
eager,  opening  mind  the  whole  course  of  current 
literature  must  bring  so  many  trying  questions  in 
regard  to  the  position  of  her  father  and  mother, 
—  questions  that  the  mother  might  not  answer. 
That  the  cruel  inconsiderateness  of  the  literary 
world  added  thorns  to  the  intricacies  of  the  path 
trodden  by  every  mother  who  seeks  to  guide, 
restrain,  and  educate  a  strong,  acute,  and  preco 
ciously  intelligent  child,  must  easily  be  seen. 


RESULTS   AFTER  LORD    BYRON  S    DEATH.       145 

What  remains  to  be  said  of  Lady  Byron's  life 
shall  be  said  in  the  words  of  Miss  Martineau, 
published  in  "  The  Atlantic  Monthly  :  "  — 

"  Her  life,  thenceforth,  was  one  of  unremitting  bounty  to 
society,  administered  with  as  much  skill  and  prudence  as  be 
nevolence.  She  lived  in  retirement,  changing  her  abode  fre 
quently  ;  partly  for  the  benefit  of  her  child's  education  and  the 
promotion  of  her  benevolent  schemes,  and  partly  from  a  rest 
lessness  which  was  one  of  the  few  signs  of  injury  received  from 
the  spoiling  of  associations  with  home> 

"  She  felt  a  satisfaction  which  her  friends  rejoiced  in  when,  her 
daughter  married  Lord  King,  at  present  the  Earl  of  Lovelace, 
in  1835  ;  and  when  grief  upon  grief  followed,  in  the  appearance 
of  mortal  disease  in  her  only  child,  her  quiet  patience  stood 
her  in  good  stead  as  before.  She  even  found  strength  to  ap 
propriate  the  blessings  of  the  occasion,  and  took  comfort,  as 
did  her  dying  daughter,  in  the  intimate  friendship,  which  grew 
closer  as  the  time  of  parting  drew  nigh. 

"  Lady  Lovelace  died  in  1852  ;  and,  for  her  few  remaining 
years,  Lady  Byron  was  devoted  to  her  grandchildren.  But 
nearer  calls  never  lessened  her  interest  in  remoter  objects. 
Her  mind  was  of  the  large  and  clear  quality  which  could  com 
prehend  remote  interests  in  their  true  proportions,  and  achieve 
each  aim  as  perfectly  as  if  it  were  the  only  one.  Her  agents 
used  to  say  that  it  was  impossible  to  mistake  her  directions ; 


146   RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON'S  DEATH. 

and  thus  her  business  was  usually  well  clone.  There  was  no 
room,  in  her  case,  for  the  ordinary  doubts,  censures,  and  sneers 
about  the  misapplication  of  bounty. 

"  Her  taste  did  not  lie  in  the  '  Charity-Ball '  direction ; 
her  funds  were  not  lavished  in  encouraging  hypocrisy  and 
improvidence  among  the  idle  and  worthless  ;  and  the  quality 
of  her  charity  was,  in  fact,  as  admirable  as  its  quantity.  Her 
chief  aim  was  the  extension  and  improvement  of  popular 
education  ;  but  there  was  no  kind  of  misery  that  she  heard 
of  that  she  did  not  palliate  to  the  utmost,  and  no  kind  of  solace 
that  her  quick  imagination  and  sympathy  could  devise  that  she 
did  not  administer. 

"  In  her  methods,  she  united  consideration  and  frankness 
with  singular  success.  For  one  instance  among  a  thousand  : 
A  lady  with  whom  she  had  had  friendly  relations  some  time 
before,  and  who  became  impoverished  in  a  quiet  way  by  hope 
less  sickness,  preferred  poverty  with  an  easy  conscience  to  a 
competency  attended  by  some  uncertainty  about  the  perfect 
rectitude  of  the  resource.  Lady  Byron  wrote  to  an  intermediate 
person  exactly  what  she  thought  of  the  case.  Whether  the 
judgment  of  the  sufferer  was  right  or  mistaken  was  nobody's 
business  but  her  own  :  this  was  the  first  point.  Next,  a  vol 
untary  poverty  could  never  be  pitied  by  anybody  :  that  was  the 
second.  But  it  was  painful  to  others  to  think  of  the  mortifica 
tion  to  benevolent  feelings  which  attends  poverty;  and  there 
could  be  no  objection  to  arresting  that  pain.  Therefore  she, 
Lady  Byron,  had  lodged  in  a  neighboring  bank  the  sum  of 


RESULTS    AFTER    LORD    BYRON  S    DEATH.       147 

one  hundred  pounds,  to  be  used  for  benevolent  purposes  ;  and, 
in  order  to  preclude  all  outside  speculation,  she  had  made 
the  money  payable  to  the  order  of  the  intermediate  person, 
so  that  the  sufferer's  name  need  not  appear  at  all. 

"  I^ive  and  thirty  years  of  unremitting  secret  bounty  like  this 
must  make  up  a  great  amount  of  human  happiness  ;  but  this 
was  only  one  of  a  wide  variety  of  methods  of  doing  good.  It 
\vas  the  unconcealable  magnitude  of  her  beneficence,  and  its 
wise  quality,  which  made  her  a  second  time  the  theme  of  Eng 
lish  conversation  in  all  honest  households  within  the  four  seas. 
Years  ago,  it  was  said  far  and  wide  that  Lady  Byron  was  doing 
more  good  than  anybody  else  in  England  ;  and  it  was  difficult 
to  imagine  how  anybody  could  do  more. 

"  Lord  Byron  spent  every  shilling  that  the  law  allowed  him  out 
of  her  property  while  he  lived,  and  left  away  from  her  every 
shilling  that  he  could  deprive  her  of  by  his  will  ;  yet  she 
had,  eventually,  a  large  income  at  her  command.  In  the 
management  of  it,  she  showed  the  same  wise  consideration 
that  marked  all  her  practical  decisions.  She  resolved  to  spend 
her  whole  income,  seeing  how  much  the  world  needed  help  at 
the  moment.  Her  care  was  for  the  existing  generation,  rather 
than  for  a  future  one,  which  would  have  its  own  friends.  She 
usually  declined  trammelling  herself  with  annual  subscrip 
tions  to  charities ;  preferring  to  keep  her  freedom  from  year  to 
year,  and  to  achieve  definite  objects  by  liberal  bounty,  rather 
than  to  extend  partial  help  over  a  large  surface  which  she 
could  not  herself  superintend. 


148      RESULTS    AFTER   LORD    BYRON'S    DEATH. 

"  It  was  her  first  industrial  school  that  awakened  the  admira 
tion  of  the  public,  which  had  never  ceased  to  take  an  interest 
in  her,  while  sorely  misjudging  her  character.  We  hear  much 
now  —  and  everybody  hears  it  with  pleasure  — of  the  spread  of 
education  in  '  common  things  ; '  but  long  before  Miss  Coutts 
inherited  her  wealth,  long  before  a  name  was  found  for  such  a 
method  of  training,  Lady  Byron  had  instituted  the  thing,  and 
put  it  in  the  way  of  making  its  own  name. 

"  She  was  living  at  Ealing,  in  Middlesex,  in  1834  ;  and  there 
she  opened  one  of  the  first  industrial  schools  in  England,  if 
not  the  very  first.  She  sent  out  a  master  to  Switzerland,  to  be 
instructed  in  De  Fellenburgh's  method.  She  took,  on  lease, 
five  acres  of  land,  and  spent  several  hundred  pounds  in  render 
ing  the  buildings  upon  it  fit  for  the  purposes  of  the  school.  A 
liberal  education  was  afforded  to  the  children  of  artisans  and 
laborers  during  the  half  of  the  day  when  they  were  not 
employed  in  the  field  or  garden.  The  allotments  were  rented 
by  the  boys,  who  raised  and  sold  produce,  which  afforded 
them  a  considerable  yearly  profit  if  they  were  good  workmen. 
Those  who  worked  in  the  field  earned  wages  ;  their  labor 
being  paid  by  the  hour,  according  to  the  capability  of  the 
young  laborer.  They  kept  their  accounts  of  expenditure  and 
receipts,  and  acquired  good  habits  of  business  while  learning 
the  occupation  of  their  lives.  Some  mechanical  trades  were 
taught,  as  well  as  the  arts  of  agriculture. 

"  Part  of  the  wisdom  of  the  management  lay  in  making  the 
pupils  pay.  Of  one  hundred  pupils,  half  were  boarders.  They 


RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON's  DEATH.   149 

paid  little  more  than  half  the  expenses  of  their  maintenance,  and 
the  day-scholars  paid  threepence  per  week.  Of  course,  a  large 
part  of  the  expense  was  borne  by  Lady  Byron,  besides  the  pay 
ments  she  made  for  children  who  could  not  otherwise  have  en 
tered  the  school.  The  establishment  flourished  steadily  till 
1852,  when  the  owner  of  the  land  required  it  back  for  building- 
purposes.  During  the  eighteen  years  that  the  Ealing  schools 
were  in  action,  they  did  a  world  of  good  in  the  way  of  incite 
ment  and  example.  The  poor-law  commissioners  pointed  out 
their  merits.  Land-owners  and  other  wealthy  persons  visited 
them,  and  went  home  and  set  up  similar  establishments.  Dur 
ing  those  years,  too,  Lady  Byron  had  herself  been  at  work  in 
various  directions  to  the  same  purpose. 

"  A  more  extensive  industrial  scheme  was  instituted  on  her 
Leicestershire  property,  and  not  far  off  she  opened  a  girls' 
school  and  an  infant  school ;  and  when  a  season  of  distress 
came,  as  such  seasons  are  apt  to  befall  the  poor  Leicestershire 
stocking-weavers,  Lady  Byron  fed  the  children  for  months  to 
gether,  till  they  could  resume  their  payments.  These  school 
were  opened  in  1840.  The  next  year,  she  built  a  schoolhouse 
on  her  Warwickshire  property  ;  and,  five  years  later,  she  set  up 
an  iron  schoolhouse  on  another  Leicestershire  estate. 

"  By  this  time,  her  educational  efforts  were  costing  her  several 
hundred  pounds  a  year  in  the  mere  maintenance  of  existing 
establishments  ;  but  this  is  the  smallest  consideration  in  the 
case.  She  has  sent  out  tribes  of  boys  and  girls  into  life  fit  to  do 
their  part  there  with  skill  and  credit  and  comfort.  Perhaps  it  is  a 


150   RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON S  DEATH. 

still  more  important  consideration,  that  scores  of  teachers  and 
trainers  have  been  led  into  their  vocation,  and  duly  prepared 
for  it,  by  what  they  saw  and  learned  in  her  schools.  '  As  for  the 
best  and  the  worst  of  the  Ealing  boys,  the  best  have,  in  a  few 
cases,  been  received  into  the  Battersea  Training  School,  whence 
they  could  enter  on  their  career  as  teachers  to  the  greatest  ad 
vantage  ;  and  the  worst  found  their  school  a  true  reformatory, 
before  reformatory  schools  were  heard  of.  At  Bristol,  she 
bought  a  house  for  a  reformatory  for  girls  ;  and  there  her 
friend,  Miss  Carpenter,  faithfully  and  energetically  carries  out 
her  own  and  Lady  Byron's  aims,  which  were  one  and  the  same. 

"  There  would  be  no  end  if  I  were  to  catalogue  the  schemes 
of  which  these  are  a  specimen.  It  is  of  more  consequence  to 
observe  that  her  mind  was  never  narrowed  by  her  own  acts,  as 
the  minds  of  benevolent  people  are  so  apt  to  be.  To  the  last, 
her  interest  in  great  political  movements,  at  home  and  abroad, 
was  as  vivid  as  ever.  She  watched  every  step  won  in  philoso 
phy,  every  discovery  in  science,  every  token  of  social  change 
and  progress  in  every  shape.  Her  mind  was  as  liberal  as  her 
heart  and  hand.  No  diversity  of  opinion  troubled  her  :  she 
was  respectful  to  every  sort  of  individuality,  and  indulgent  to 
all  constitutional  peculiarities.  It  must  have  puzzled  those  who 
kept  up  the  notion  of  her  being  '  strait-laced  '  to  see  how  indul 
gent  she  was  even  to  Epicurean  tendencies,  —  the  remotest  of 
all  from  her  own. 

"  But  I  must  stop  ;  for  I  do  not  wish  my  honest  memorial  to 
degenerate  into  panegyric.  Among  her  latest  known  acts  were 


RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON  S  DEATH.   151 

her  gifts  to  the  Sicilian  cause,  and  her  manifestations  on  behalf 
of  the  antislavery  cause  in  the  United  States.  Her  kindness 
to  Williarft  and  Ellen  Craft  must  be  well  known  there  ;  and  it  is 
also  related  in  the  newspapers,  that  she  bequeathed  a  legacy  to 
a  young  American  to  assist  him  under  any  disadvantages  he 
might  suffer  as  an  abolitionist. 

"  All  these  deeds  were  done  under  a  heavy  burden  of  ill 
health.  Before  she  had  passed  middle  life,  her  lungs  were  be 
lieved  to  be  irreparably  injured  by  partial  ossification.  She  was 
subject  to  attacks  so  serious,  that  each  one,  for  many  years,  was 
expected  to  be  the  last.  She  arranged  her  affairs  in  correspond 
ence  with  her  liabilities  :  so  that  the  same  order  would  have 
been  found,  whether  she  died  suddenly  or  after  long  warning. 

"  She  was  to  receive  one  more  accession  of  outward  greatness 
before  she  departed.  She  became  Baroness  Wentworth  in 
November,  1856.  This  is  one  of  the  facts  of  her  history  ;  but 
it  is  the  least  interesting  to  us,  as  probably  to  her.  We  care 
more  to  know  that  her  last  days  were  bright  in  honor,  and 
cheered  by  the  attachment  of  old  friends  worthy  to  pay  the 
duty  she  deserved.  Above  all,  it  is  consoling  to  know  that  she 
who  so  long  outlived  her  only  child  was  blessed  with  the  unre 
mitting  and  tender  care  of  her  grand-daughter.  She  died  on 
the  1 6th  of  May,  1860. 

"  The  portrait  of  Lady  Byron  as  she  was  at  the  time  of  her 
marriage  is  probably  remembered  by  some  of  my  readers.  It  is 
very  engaging.  Her  countenance  afterwards  became  much 
worn  ;  but  its  expression  of  thoughtfulness  and  composure  was 


152   RESULTS  AFTER  LORD  BYRON'S  DEATH. 

very  interesting.  Her  handwriting  accorded  well  with  th* 
character  of  her  mind.  It  was  clear,  elegant,  and  womanly. 
Her  manners  differed  with  circumstances.  Her  shrinking  sen 
sitiveness  might  embarrass  one  visitor ;  while  another  would  be 
charmed  with  her  easy,  significant,  and  vivacious  conversation. 
It  depended  much  on  whom  she  talked  with.  The  abiding  cer 
tainty  was,  that  she  had  strength  for  the  hardest  of  human 
trials,  and  the  composure  which  belongs  to  strength.  For  the 
rest,  it  is  enough  to  point  to  her  deeds,  and  to  the  mourning  of 
her  friends  round  the  chasm  which  her  departure  has  made  in 
their  life,  and  in  the  society  in  which  it  is  spent.  All  that  could 
be  done  in  the  way  of  personal  love  and  honor  was  done  while 
she  lived  :  it  only  remains  now  to  see  that  her  name  and  fame 
are  permitted  to  shine  forth  at  last  in  their  proper  light." 

We  have  simply  to  ask  the  reader  whether  a 
life  like  this  was  not  the  best,  the  noblest 
answer  that  a  woman  could  make  to  a  doubting 
world. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON'S  GRAVE. 

have  now  brought  the  review  of  the 
antagonism  against  Lady  Byron  down  to 
the  period  of  her  death.  During  all  this  time,  let 
the  candid  reader  ask  himself  which  of  these  two 
parties  seems  to  be  plotting  against  the  other. 

Which  has  been  active,  aggressive,  unscrupu 
lous  ?  which  has  been  silent,  quiet,  unoffending  ? 
Which  of  the  two  has  labored  to  make  a  party, 
and  to  make  that  party  active,  watchful,  enthusi 
astic  ? 

Have  we  not  proved  that  Lady  Byron  re 
mained  perfectly  silent  during  Lord  Byron's  life, 
patiently  looking  out  from  her  retirement  to 
see  the  waves  of  popular  sympathy,  that  once 
bore  her  up,  day  by  day  retreating,  while  his  ac- 

153 


1 54    ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON  S  GRAVE. 

cusations  against  her  were  resounding  in  his 
poems  over  the  whole  earth  ?  And  after  Lord 
Byron's  death,  when  all  the  world  with  one  con 
sent  began  to  give  their  memorials  of  him,  and 
made  it  appear,  by  their  various  "  recollections 
of  conversations,"  how  incessantly  he  had  ob 
truded  his  own  version  of  the  separation  upon 
every  listener,  did  she  manifest  any  similar  eager 
ness  ? 

Lady  Byron  had  seen  the  "  Blackwood " 
coming  forward,  on  the  first  appearance  of  "  Don 
Juan,"  to  rebuke  the  cowardly  lampoon  in  words 
eloquent  with  all  the  unperverted  vigor  of  an 
honest  Englishman.  Under  the  power  of  the 
great  conspirator,  she  had  seen  that  "  Black- 
wood  "  become  the  very  eager  recipient  and 
chief  reporter  of  .the  stories  against  her,  and 
the  blind  admirer  of  her  adversary. 

All  this  time,  she  lost  sympathy  daily  by 
being  silent.  The  world  will  embrace  those 
who  court  it  ;  it  will  patronize  those  who  seek 
its  favor ;  it  will  make  parties  for  those  who 


ATTACK   ON    LADY   BYRON S    GRAVE.          155 

seek  to  make  parties :  but  for  the  often  ac 
cused  who  do  not  speak,  who  make  no  con 
fidants  and  no  parties,  the  world  soon  loses  sym 
pathy. 

When  at  last  she  spoke,  Christopher  North 
says  "  she  astonished  tJie  world!'  Calm,  clear, 
courageous,  exact  as  to  time,  date,  and  circum 
stance,  was  that  first  testimony,  backed  by  the 
equally  clear  testimony  of  Dr.  Lushington. 

It  showed  that  her  secret  had  been  kept  even 
from  her  parents.  In  words  precise,  firm,  and 
fearless,  she  says,  "  If  these  statements  on 
which  Dr.  Lushington  and  Sir  Samuel  Romilly 
formed  their  opinion  were  false,  the  responsi 
bility  and  the  odium  should  rest  with  me  only." 
Christopher  North  did  not  pretend  to  disbelieve 
this  statement.  He  breathed  not  a  doubt  of 
Lady  Byron's  word.  He  spoke  of  the  crime 
indicated,  as  one  which  might  have  been  foul 
as  the  grave's  corruption,  unforgivable  as  the 
sin  against  the  Holy  Ghost.  He  rebuked  the 
wife  for  bearing  this  testimony,  even  to  save 


156    ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON*S  GRAVE. 

the  memory  of  her  dead  father  and  mother,  and, 
in  the  same  breath,  declared  that  she  ought  now 
to  go  farther,  and  speak  fully  the  one  awful  word, 
and  then  —  "  a  mitigated  sentence,  or  eternal 
silence ! " 

But  Lady  Byron  took  no  counsel  with  the 
world,  nor  with  the  literary  men  of  her  age. 
One  knight,  with  some  small  remnant  of  Eng 
land's  old  chivalry,  set  lance  in  rest  for  her :  she 
saw  him  beaten  back  unhorsed,  rolled  in  the 
dust,  and  ingloriously  vanquished,  and  perceived 
that  henceforth  nothing  but  injury  could  come 
to  any  one  who  attempted  to  speak  for  her. 

She  turned  from  the  judgments  of  man  and 
the  fond  and  natural  hopes  of  human  nature, 
to  lose  herself  in  sacred  ministries  to  the  down 
cast  and  suffering.  What  nobler  record  for 
woman  could  there  be  than  that  which  Miss 
Martineau  has  given  ? 

Particularly  to  be  noted  in  Lady  Byron  was 
her  peculiar  interest  in  reclaiming  fallen  women. 
Among  her  letters  to  Mrs.  Prof.  Pollen  of 


ATTACK    ON    LADY    BYRON S    GRAVE.          157 

Cambridge  was  one  addressed  to  a  society  of 
ladies  who  had  undertaken  this  difficult  work. 
It  was  full  of  heavenly  wisdom  and  of  a  large 
and  tolerant  charity.  Fenelon  truly  says,  it  is 
only  perfection  that  can  tolerate  imperfection ; 
and  the  very  purity  of  Lady  Byron's  nature 
made  her  most  forbearing  and  most  tender 
towards  the  weak  and  the  guilty.  This  letter, 
with  all  the  rest  of  Lady  Byron's,  was  returned 
to  the  hands  of  her  executors  after  her  death. 
Its  publication  would  greatly  assist  the  world  in 
understanding  the  peculiarities  of  its  writer's 
character. 

Lady  Byron  passed  to  a  higher  life  in  1860.* 
After  her  death,  I  looked  for  the  publication  of 
her  Memoir  and  Letters  as  the  event  that 
should  give  her  the  same  opportunity  of  be 
ing  known  and  judged  by  her  life  and  writ 
ings  that  had  been  so  freely  accorded  to  Lord 
Byron. 

She  was,  in  her  husband's  estimation,  a  woman 

*  Miss  Martineau's  Biographical  Sketches. 


158    ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON  S  GRAVE. 

of  genius.  She  was  the  friend  of  many  of  the 
first  men  and  women  of  her  times,  and  corre 
sponded  with  them  on  topics  of  literature,  morals, 
religion,  and,  above  all,  on  the  benevolent  and 
philanthropic  movements  of  the  day,  whose  prin 
ciples  she  had  studied  with  acute  observation, 
and  in  connection  with  which  she  had  acquired  a 
large  experience. 

The  knowledge  of  her,  necessarily  diffused  by 
such  a  series  of  letters,  would  have  created  in 
America  a  comprehension  of  her  character,  of 
itself  sufficient  to  wither  a  thousand  slanders. 

Such  a  Memoir  was  contemplated.  Lady 
Byron's  letters  to  Mrs.  Pollen  were  asked  for 
from  Boston  ;  and  I  was  applied  to  by  a  person 
in  England,  who  I  have  recently  learned  is  one 
of  the  existing  trustees  of  Lady  Byron's  papers, 
to  furnish  copies  of  her  letters  to  me  for  the 
purpose  of  a  Memoir.  Before  I  had  time  to  have 
copies  made,  another  letter  came,  stating  that  the 
trustees  had  concluded  that  it  was  not  best  to 
publish  any  Memoir  of  Lady  Byron  at  all. 


ATTACK   ON    LADY    BYRON  S    GRAVE.  159 

This  left  the  character  of  Lady  Byron  in  our 
American  world  precisely  where  the  slanders 
of  her  husband,  the  literature  of  the  Noctes 
Club,  and  the  unanimous  verdict  of  May  Fair 
as  recorded  by  "  Blackwood,"  had  placed  it. 

True,  Lady  Byron  had  nobly  and  quietly  lived 
down  these  slanders  in  England  by  deeds 
that  made  her  name  revered  as  a  saint  among 
all  those  who  valued  saintliness. 

But  in  France  and  Italy,  and  in  these 
United  States,  I  have  had  abundant  oppor 
tunity  to  know  that  Lady  Byron  stood 
judged  and  condemned  on  the  testimony  of 
her  brilliant  husband,  and  that  the  feeling 
against  her  had  a  vivacity  and  intensity  not 
to  be  overcome  by  mere  allusions  to  a  virtuous 
life  in  distant  England. 

This  is  strikingly  shown  by  one  fact.  In  the 
American  edition  of  Moore's  "  Life  of  Byron," 
by  Claxton,  Remsen,  and  HafTelfinger,  Philadel 
phia,  1869,  which  I  have  been  consulting,  Lady 
Byron's  statement,  which  is  found  in  the  Appen- 


I6O    ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON'S  GRAVE. 

dix  of  Murray's  standard  edition,  is  entirely 
omitted.  Every  other  paper  is  carefully  pre 
served.  This  one  incident  showed  how  the  tide 
of  sympathy  was  setting  in  this  New  World. 
Of  course,  there  is  no  stronger  power  than  a 
virtuous  life  ;  but,  for  a  virtuous  life  to  bear  testi 
mony  to  the  world,  its  details  must  be  told,  so 
that  the  world  may  know  them. 

Suppose  the  memoirs  of  Clarkson  and  Wilber- 
force  had  been  suppressed  after  their  death,  how 
soon  might  the  coming  tide  have  wiped  out  the 
record  of  their  bravery  and  philanthropy  !  Sup 
pose  the  lives  of  Francis  Xavier  and  Henry 
•Martyn  had  never  been  written,  and  we  had  lost 
the  remembrance  of  what  holy  men  could  do 
and  dare  in  the  divine  enthusiasm  of  Christian 
faith !  Suppose  we  had  no  Fenelon,  no  Book  of 
Martyrs  ! 

Would  there  not  be  an  outcry  through  all  the 
literary  and  artistic  world  if  a  perfect  statue 
were  allowed  to  remain  buried  forever  because 
some  painful  individual  history  was  connected 


ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON*S  GRAVE.    l6l 

with  its  burial  and  its  recovery  ?  But  is  not  a 
noble  life  a  greater  treasure  to  mankind  than 
any  work  of  art  ? 

We  have  heard  much  mourning  over  the  burned 
Autobiography  of  Lord  Byron,  and  seen  it  treated 
of  in  a  magazine  as  "  the  lost  chapter  in  history." 
The  lost  chapter  in  history  is  Lady  Byron's  Auto 
biography  in  her  life  and  letters  ;  and  the  sup 
pression  of  them  is  the  root  of  this  whole 
mischief. 

We  do  not  in  this  intend  to  censure  the  par 
ties  who  came  to  this  decision. 

The  descendants  of  Lady  Byron  revere  her 
memory,  as  they  have  every  reason  to  do.  That 
it  was  their  desire  to  have  a  Memoir  of  her 
published,  I  have  been  informed  by  an  indi 
vidual  of  the  highest  character  in  England,  who 
obtained  the  information  directly  from  Lady 
Byron's  grandchildren. 

But  the  trustees  in  whose  care  the  papers 
were  placed  drew  back  on  examination  of  them, 
and  declared,  that,  as  Lady  Byron's  papers  could 


1 62    ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON'S  GRAVE. 

not  be  fully  published,  they  should  regret  any 
thing  that  should  call  public  attention  once  more 
to  the  discussion  of  her  history. 

Reviewing  this  long  history  of  the  way  in 
which  the  literary  world  had  treated  Lady  Byron, 
we  cannot  wonder  that  her  friends  should  have 
doubted  whether  there  was  left  on  earth  any  jus 
tice,  or  sense  that  any  thing  is  due  to  woman  as  a 
human  being  with  human  rights.  Evidently  this 
lesson  had  taken  from  them  all  faith  in  the  moral 
sense  of  the  world.  Rather  than  re-awaken  the 
discussion,  so  unsparing,  so  painful,  and  so  in 
delicate,  which  had  been  carried  on  so  many 
years  around  that  loved  form,  now  sanctified  by 
death,  they  sacrificed  the  dear  pleasure  of  the 
memorials,  and  the  interests  of  mankind,  who 
have  an  indefeasible  right  to  all  the  help  that 
can  be  got  from  the  truth  of  history  as  to  the 
living  power  of  virtue,  and  the  reality  of  that 
great  victory  that  overcometh  the  world. 

There  are  thousands  of  poor  victims  suffering 
in  sadness,  discouragement,  and  poverty  ;  heart- 


ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON'S  GRAVE.    163 

broken  wives  of  brutal,  drunken  husbands  ; 
women  enduring  nameless  wrongs  and  horrors 
which  the  delicacy  of  their  sex  forbids  them  to 
utter,  — to  whom  the  lovely  letters  lying  hidden 
away  under  those  seals  might  bring  courage  and 
hope  from  springs  not  of  this  world. 

But  though  the  friends  of  Lady  Byron,  per 
haps  from  despair  of  their  kind,  from  weariness 
of  the  utter  injustice  done  her,  wished  to  cherish 
her  name  in  silence,  and  to  confine  the  story  of 
her  virtues  to  that  circle  who  knew  her  too  well 
to  ask  a  proof,  or  utter  a  doubt,  the  partisans  of 
Lord  Byron  were  embarrassed  with  no  such 
scruple. 

Lord  Byron  had  artfully  contrived  during  his 
life  to  place  his  wife  in  such  an  antagonistic 
position  with  regard  to  himself,  that  his  inti 
mate  friends  were  forced  to  believe  that  one  of 
the  two  had  deliberately  and  wantonly  injured 
the  other.  The  published  statement  of  Lady 
Byron  contradicted  boldly  and  point-blank  all 
the  statement  of  her  husband  concerning  the 


1 64    ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON'S  GRAVE. 

separation  :  so  that,  unless  she  was  convicted  as 
a  false  witness,  he  certainly  was. 

The  best  evidence  of  this  is  Christopher 
North's  own  shocked,  astonished  statement,  and 
the  words  of  the  Noctes  Club. 

The  noble  life  that  Lady  Byron  lived  after 
this  hushed  every  voice,  and  silenced  even  the 
most  desperate  calumny,  while  she  was  in  the 
world.  In  the  face  of  Lady  Byron  as  the  world 
saw  her,  of  what  use  was  the  talk  of  Clytemnes- 
tra,  and  the  assertion  that  she  had  been  a  mean, 
deceitful  conspirator  against  her  husband's  honor 
in  life,  and  stabbed  his  memory  after  death? 

But  when  she  was  in  her  grave,  when  her 
voice  and  presence  and  good  deeds  no  more 
spoke  for  her,  and  a  new  generation  was  grow 
ing  up  that  knew  her  not,  then  was  the  time 
selected  to  revive  the  assault  on  her  memory, 
and  to  say  over  her  grave  what  none  would  ever 
have  dared  to  say  of  her  while  living. 

During  these  last  two  years,  I  have  been  grad 
ually  awakening  to  the  evidence  of  a  new  crusade 


ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON'S  GRAVE.    165 

against  the  memory  of  Lady  Byron,  which  re 
spected  no  sanctity,  —  not  even  that  last  and 
most  awful  one  of  death. 

Nine  years  after  her  death,  when  it  was 
fully  understood  that  no  story  on  her  side  or 
that  of  her  friends  was  to  be  forthcoming,  then 
her  calumniators  raked  out  from  the  ashes  of 
her  husband's  sepulchre  all  his  bitter  charges, 
to  state  them  over  in  even  stronger  and  more 
indecent  forms. 

There  seems  to  be  reason  to  think  that  the 
materials  supplied  by  Lord  Byron  for  such  a 
campaign  yet  exist  in  society. 

To  "  The  Noctes  "  of  November,  1824,  there  is 
the  following  note  apropos  to  a  discussion  of  the 
Byron  question  :  — 

"  Byron's  Memoirs,  given  by  him  to  Moore,  were  burned,  as 
everybody  knows.  But,  before  this,  Moore  had  lent  them  to 
several  persons.  Mrs.  Home  Purvis,  afterwards  Viscountess  of 
Canterbury,  is  known  to  have  sat  up  all  one  night,  in  which, 
aided  by  her  daughter,  she  had  a  copy  made.  I  have  the 
strongest  reason  for  believing  that  one  other  person  made  a 


1 66    ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON'S  GRAVE. 

copy  ;  for  the  description  of  the  first  twenty-four  hours  after  the 
marriage  ceremonial  has  been  in  my  hands.  Not  until  after  the 
death  of  Lady  Byron,  and  Hobhouse,  who  was  the  poet's  literary 
executor,  can  the  poet's  Autobiography  see  the  light ;  but  I  am 
certain  it  will  be  published. " 

Thus  speaks  Mackenzie  in  a  note  to  a  volume 
of  "The  Noctes,"  published  in  America  in  1854. 
Lady  Byron  died  in  1860. 

Nine  years  after  Lady  Byron's  death,  when  it 
was  ascertained  that  her  story  was  not  to  see 
the  light,  when  there  were  no  means  of  judging 
her  character  by  her  own  writings,  commenced 
a  well-planned  set  of  operations  to  turn  the 
public  attention  once  more  to  Lord  Byron,  and 
to  represent  him  as  an  injured  man,  whose 
testimony  had  been  unjustly  suppressed. 

It  was  quite  possible,  supposing  copies  of  the 
Autobiography  to  exist,  that  this  might  occa 
sion  a  call  from  the  generation  of  to-day,  in 
answer  to  which  the  suppressed  work  might 
appear.  This  was  a  rather  delicate  operation  to 
commence ;  but  the  instrument  was  not  want- 


ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON'S  GRAVE.    l6/ 

ing.  It  was  necessary  that  the  subject  should 
be  first  opened  by  some  irresponsible  party, 
whom  more  powerful  parties  might,  as  by 
accident,  recognize  and  patronize,  and  on  whose 
weakness  they  might  build  something  stronger. 

Just  such  an  instrument  was  to  be  found  in 
Paris.  The  mistress  of  Lord  Byron  could  easily 
be  stirred  up  and  flattered  to  come  before  the 
world  with  a  book  which  should  re-open  the 
whole  controversy ;  and  she  proved  a  facile  tool. 
At  first,  the  work  appeared  prudently  in  French, 
and  was  called  "  Lord  Byron  juge  par  les  Tc- 
moins  de  sa  Vie,"  and  was  rather  a  failure.  Then 
it  was  translated  into  English,  and  published  by 
Bentley. 

The  book  was  inartistic,  and  helplessly,  child 
ishly  stupid  as  to  any  literary  merits,  —  a  mere 
mass  of  gossip  and  twaddle  ;  but  after  all,  when 
one  remembers  the  taste  of  the  thousands  of  cir 
culating-library  readers,  it  must  not  be  consid 
ered  the  less  likely  to  be  widely  read  on  that 
account.  It  is  only  once  in  a  century  that  a 


1 68    ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON'S  GRAVE. 

writer  of  real  genius  has  the  art  to  tell  his  story 
so  as  to  take  both  the  cultivated  few  and  the 
average  many.  De  Foe  and  John  Bunyan  are 
almost  the  only  examples.  But  there  is  a  certain 
class  of  reading  that  sells  and  spreads,  and 
exerts  a  vast  influence,  which  the  upper  circles 
of  literature  despise  too  much  ever  to  fairly  esti 
mate  its  power. 

However,  the  Guiccioli  book  did  not  want 
for  patrons  in  the  high  places  of  literature.  The 
"  Blackwood  "  —  the  old  classic  magazine  of 
England  ;  the  defender  of  conservatism  and  aris 
tocracy  ;  the  paper  of  Lockhart,  Wilson,  Hogg, 
Walter  Scott,  and  a  host  of  departed  grandeurs 
—  was  deputed  to  usher  into  the  world  this 
book,  and  to  recommend  it  and  its  author  to  the 
Christian  public  of  the  nineteenth  century. 

The  following  is  the  manner  in  which  "  Black- 
wood  "  calls  attention  to  it :  — 

"  ©ne  of  the  most  beautiful  of  the  songs  of  Beranger  is  that 
addressed  to  his  Lisette,  in  which  he  pictures  her,  in  old  age, 
narrating  to  a  younger  generation  the  loves  of  their  youth  ;  deck- 


ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON'S  GRAVE.    169 

ing   his  portrait   with  flowers   at   each   returning   spring,  and 
reciting  the  verses   that   had   been   inspired  by  her  vanished 

charms  :  — 

'  When  youthful  eyes  your  wrinkles  shall  explore 

To  see  what  beauties  once  inspired  my  lays, 
Then  will  they  say  to  thee,  "  Who  was  that  friend 
So  loved,  so  wept,  so  sung  in  ceaseless  praise  ?  " 
Paint  to  their  eyes,  if  possible,  my  love, 
Its  ardors,  its  deliriums,  e'en  its  fears  ; 
And,  good  old  friend,  beside  thy  peaceful  fire 
Repeat  the  love-songs  of  my  early  years. 

"  Ah  !  "  will  they  say,  "  was  he  so  lovely,  then  ? " 

• 

And  thou  without  a  blush  shalt  say,  "  /  loved." 
" Of  wrong  or  evil  was  he  guilty  ever?  " 
And  thou  with  noble  pride  shalt  answer,  "  Never  !  "  ' 

"  This  charming  picture,"  "  Blackwood  "  goes  on  to  say,  "  has 
been  realized  in  the  case  -of  a  poet  greater  than  Beranger,  and 
by  a  mistress  more  famous  than  Lisette.  The  Countess  Guiccioli 
has  at  length  given  to  the  world  her  '  Recollections  of  Lord 
Byron.'  The  book  first  appeared  in  France  under  the  title  of 
'  Lord  Byron  juge  par  les  Tcmoins  de  sa  Vie,'  without  the 
name  of  the  countess.  A  more  unfortunate  designation  could 
hardly  have  been  selected.  The  '  witnesses  of  his  life  '  told 
us  nothing  but  what  had  been  told  before  over  and  over  again  ; 
and  the  uniform  and  exaggerated  tone  of  eulogy  which  per 
vaded  the  whole  book  was  fatal  to  any  claim  on  the  part  of  the 
writer  to  be  considered  an  impartial  judge  of  the  wonderfully 
mixed  character  of  Byron. 


I7O    ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON'S  GRAVE. 

"  When,  however,  the  book  is  regarded  as  the  avowed  pro- 
dttction  of  the  Countess  Guiccioli,  it  derives  value  and  interest 
from  its  very  faults*  There  is  something  inexpressibly 
touching  in  the  picture  of  the  old  lady  calling  up  the  phan 
toms  of  half  a  century  ago  ;  not  faded  and  stricken  by  the  hand 
of  time,  but  brilliant  and  gorgeous  as  they  were  when  Byron,  in 
his  manly  prime  of  genius  and  beauty,  first  flashed  upon  her 
enraptured  sight,  and  she  gave  her  whole  soul  up  to  an  absorb 
ing  passion,  the  embers  of  which  still  glow  in  her  heart. 

"  To  her  there  has  been  no  change,  no  decay.  The  god 
whom  she  worshipped  with  all  the  ardor  of  her  Italian  nature 
at  seventeen  is  still  the  '  Pythian  of  the  age  '  to  her  at  seventy. 
To  try  such  a  book  by  the  ordinary  canons  of  criticism  would 
be  as  absurd  as  to  arraign  the  authoress  before  a  jury  of  British 
matrons,  or  to  prefer  a  bill  of  indictment  against  the  Sultan  for 
bigamy  to  a  Middlesex  grand  jury." 

This,  then,  is  the  introduction  which  one  of 
the  oldest  and  most  classical  periodicals  of  Great 
Britain  gives  to  a  very  stupid  book,  simply  be 
cause  it  was  written  by  Lord  Byron's  mistress. 
That  fact,  we  are  assured,  lends  grace  even  to 
its  faults. 

Having  brought  the  authoress  upon  the  stage, 

*  The  Italics  are  mine.  —  H.  B.  S. 


ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON S  GRAVE.    I/I 

the  review  now  goes   on   to   define   her  position, 
and  assure  the  Christian  world  that 

"  The  Countess  Guiccioli  was  the  daughter  of  an  impover 
ished  noble.  At  the  age  of  sixteen,  she  was  taken  from  a  con 
vent,  and  sold  as  third  wife  to  the  Count  Guiccioli,  who  was  old, 
rich,  and  profligate.  A  fouler  prostitution  never  profaned  the 
name  of  marriage.  A  short  time  afterwards,  she  accidentally 
met  Lord  Byron.  Outraged  and  rebellious  nature  vindicated 
itself  in  the  deep  and  devoted  passion  with  which  he  inspired 
her.  With  the  full  assent  of  husband,  father,  and  brother,  and 
in  compliance  with  the  usages  of  Italian  society,  he  was  shortly 
afterwards  installed  in  the  office,  and  invested  with  all  the  privi 
leges,  of  her  '  Cavalier  Servente.'  " 

It  has  been  asserted  that  the  Marquis  de 
Boissy,  the  late  husband  of  this  Guiccioli  lady, 
was  in  the  habit  of  introducing  her  in  fashiona 
ble  circles  as  "the  Marquise  de  Boissy,  my  wife, 
formerly  mistress  to  Lord  Byron  "  !  We  do  not 
give  the  story  as  a  verity  ;  yet,  in  the  review 
of  this  whole  history,  we  may  be  pardoned  for 
thinking  it  quite  possible. 

The  mistress,  being  thus  vouched  for  and  pre 
sented  as  worthy  of  sympathy  and  attention  by 


1/2         ATTACK    ON    LADY    BYRON  S    GRAVE. 

one  of  the  oldest  and  most  classic  organs  of 
English  literature,  may  now  proceed  in  her  work 
of  glorifying  the  popular  idol,  and  casting  abuse 
on  the  grave  of  the  dead  wife. 

Her  attacks  on  Lady  Byron  are,  to  be  sure, 
less  skilful  and  adroit  than  those  of  Lord  Byron. 
They  want  his  literary  polish  and  tact  ;  but  what 
of  that  ?  "  Blackwood  "  assures  us  that  even  the 
faults  of  manner  derive  a  peculiar  grace  from 
the  fact  that  the  narrator  is  Lord  Byron's  mis 
tress  ;  and  so  we  suppose  the  literary  world  must 
find  grace  in  things  like  this  :  — 

"  She  has  been  called,  after  his  words,  the  moral  Clytemnes- 
tra  of  her  husband.  Such  a  surname  is  severe  :  but  the  repug 
nance  we  feel  to  condemning  a  woman  cannot  prevent  our  lis 
tening  to  the  voice  of  justice,  which  tells  us  that  the  comparison 
is  still  in  favor  of  the  guilty  one  of  antiquity  ;  for  she,  driven 
to  crime  by  fierce  passion  overpowering  reason,  at  least  only 
deprived  her  husband  of  physical  life,  and,  in  committing  the 
deed,  exposed  herself  to  all  its  consequences  ;  while  Lady  Byron 
left  her  husband  at  the  very  moment  that  she  saw  him  struggling 
amid  a  thousand  shoals  in  the  stormy  sea  of  embarrassments 
created  by  his  marriage,  and  precisely  when  he  more  than 


ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON S  GRAVE.    1/3 

ever  required  a  friendly,  tender,  and  indulgent  hand  to  save 
him. 

"  Besides,  she  shut  herself  up  in  silence  a  thousand  times  more 
cruel  than  Clytemnestra's  poniard  :  that  only  killed  the  body ; 
whereas  Lady  Byron's  silence  was  destined  to  kill  the  soul,  — 
and  such  a  soul !  —  leaving  the  door  open  to  calumny,  and  making 
it  to  be  supposed  that  her  silence  was  magnanimity  destined  to 
cover  over  frightful  wrongs,  perhaps  even  depravity.  In  vain 
did  he,  feeling  his  conscience  at  ease,  implore  some  inquiry  and 
examination.  She  refused  ;  and  the  only  favor  she  granted 
was  to  send  him,  one  fine  day,  two  persons  to  see  whether  he 
were  not  mad. 

"  And  why,  then,  had  she  believed  him  mad  ?  Because  she, 
a  methodical,  inflexible  woman,  with  that  unbendingness  which 
a  profound  moralist  calls  the  worship  rendered  to  pride  by  a 
feelingless  soul,  —  because  she  could  not  understand  the  possi 
bility  of  tastes  and  habits  different  to  those  of  ordinary  routine, 
or  of  her  own  starched  life.  Not  to  be  hungry  when  she  was  ; 
not  to  sleep  at  night,  but  to  write  while  she  was  sleeping,  and 
to  sleep  when  she  was  up  ;  in  short,  to  gratify  the  require 
ments  of  material  and  intellectual  life  at  hours  different  to  hers, 
—  all  that  was  not  merely  annoying  for  her,  but  it  must  be  mad 
ness  ;  or,  if  not,  it  betokened  depravity  that  she  could  neither 
submit  to  nor  tolerate  without  perilling  her  own  morality. 

"  Such  was  the  grand  secret  of  the  cruel  silence  which  ex 
posed  Lord  Byron  to  the  most  malignant  interpretations,  to 
all  the  calumny  and  revenge  of  his  enemies. 


ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON's  GRAVE. 


"  She  was,  perhaps,  the  only  woman  in  the  world  so  strangely 
organized,  —  the  only  one,  perhaps,  capable  of  not  feeling 
happy  and  proud  at  belonging  to  a  man  superior  to  the  rest  of 
humanity  ;  and  fatally  was  it  decreed  that  this  woman  alone  of 
her  species  should  be  Lord  Byron's  wife  !  " 

In  a  note  is  added,  — 

"  If  an  imaginary  fear,  and  even  an  unreasonable  jealousy, 
may  be  her  excuse  (just  as  one  excuses  a  monomania),  can  one 
equally  forgive  her  silence  ?  Such  a  silence  is  morally  what  are 
physically  the  poisons  which  kill  at  once,  and  defy  all  remedies  ; 
thus  insuring  the  culprit's  safety.  This  silence  it  is  which  will 
ever  be  her  crime  ;  for  by  it  she  poisoned  the  life  of  her  hus 
band." 

The  book  has  several  chapters  devoted  to 
Lord  Byron's  peculiar  virtues  ;  and,  under  the 
one  devoted  to  magnanimity  and  heroism,  his 
forgiving  disposition  receives  special  attention. 
The  climax  of  all  is  stated  to  be  that  he  forgave 
Lady  Byron.  All  the  world  knew  that,  since  he 
had  declared  this  fact  in  a  very  noisy  and  impas 
sioned  manner  in  the  fourth  canto  of  "Childe 
Harold,"  together  with  a  statement  of  the  wrongs 


ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON  S  GRAVE.     1/5 

which  he  forgave  ;  but  the  Guiccioli  thinks  his 
virtue,  at  this  period,  has  not  been  enough  appre 
ciated.  In  her  view,  it  rose  to  the  sublime.  She 
says  of  Lady  Byron,  — 

"  An  absolute  moral  monstrosity,  an  anomaly  in  the  his 
tory  of  types  of  female  hideousness,  had  succeeded  in  show 
ing  itself  in  the  light  of  magnanimity.  But  false  as  was  this 
high  quality  in  Lady  Byron,  so  did  it  shine  out  in  him  true  and 
admirable.  The  position  in  which  Lady  Byron  had  placed  him, 
and  where  she  continued  to  keep  him  by  her  harshness,  silence, 
and  strange  refusals,  was  one  of  those  which  cause  such  suffer 
ing,  that  the  highest  degree  of  self-control  seldom  suffices  to 
quiet  the  promptings  of  human  weakness,  and  to  cause  persons 
of  even  slight  sensibility  to  preserve  moderation.  Yet,  with  his 
sensibility  and  the  knowledge  of  his  worth,  how  did  he  act  ? 
what  did  he  say  ?  I  will  not  speak  of  his  '  Farewell ; '  of  the 
care  he  took  to  shield  her  from  blame  by  throwing  it  on  others, 
by  taking  much  too  large  a  share  to  himself." 

With  like  vivacity  and  earnestness  does  the 
narrator  now  proceed  to  make  an  incarnate  angel 
of  her  subject  by  the  simple  process  of  denying 
every  thing  that  he  himself  ever  confessed, — 
every  thing  that  has  ever  been  confessed  in  regard 


ATTACK    ON    LADY    BYRONS    GRAVE. 

to  him  by  his  best  friends.  He  has  been  in  the 
world  as  an  angel  unawares  from  his  cradle.  His 
guardian  did  not  properly  appreciate  him,  and  is 
consequently  mentioned  as  that  wicked  Lord  Car 
lisle.  Thomas  Moore  is  never  to  be  sufficiently 
condemned  for  the  facts  told  in  his  Biography. 
Byron's  own  frank  and  lawless  admissions  of 
evil  are  set  down  to  a  peculiar  inability  he 
had  for  speaking  the  truth  about  himself,  — 
sometimes  about  his  near  relations  ;  all  which 
does  not  in  the  least  discourage  the  authoress 
from  giving  a  separate  chapter  on  "  Lord  Byron's 
Love  of  Truth." 

In  the  matter  of  his  relations  with  women,  she 
complacently  repeats  (what  sounds  rather  oddly 
as  coming  from  her)  Lord  Byron's  own  assur 
ance,  that  he  never  seduced  a  woman  ;  and  also 
the  equally  convincing  statement,  that  he  had  told 
lier  (the  Guiccioli)  that  his  married  fidelity  to  his 
wife  was  perfect.  She  discusses  Moore's  account 
of  the  mistress  in  boy's  clothes  who  used  to 
share  Byron's  apartments  in  college,  and  ride 


ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON S  GRAVE.     I// 

with  him  to  races,  and  whom  he  presented  to 
ladies  as  his  brother. 

She  has  her  own  view  of  this  matter.  The 
disguised  boy  was  a  lady  of  rank  and  fashion, 
who  sought  Lord  Byron's  chambers,  as  we  are 
informed  noble  ladies  everywhere,  both  in  Italy 
and  England,  were  constantly  in  the  habit  of 
doing  ;  throwing  themselves  at  his  feet,  and  im 
ploring  permission  to  become  his  handmaids. 

In  the  authoress's  own  words,  "  Feminine  over 
tures  still  continued  to  be  made  to  Lord  Byron  ; 
but  the  fumes  of  incense  never  hid  from  his  sight 
his  IDEAL."  We  are  told,  that,  in  case  of  these 
poor  ladies,  generally  "  disenchantment  took 
place  on  his  side  without  a  corresponding  result 
on  the  other :  THENCE  many  heart-breakings." 
Nevertheless,  we  are  informed  that  there  fol 
lowed  the  indiscretions  of  these  ladies  "  none  of 
those  proceedings  that  the  world  readily  forgives, 
but  which  his  feelings  as  a  man  of  honor  would 
have  condemned." 

As   to  drunkenness,  and  all  that,  we  are  in- 


1/8    ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON'S  GRAVE. 

formed  he  was  an  anchorite.  Pages  are  given  to 
an  account  of  the  biscuits  and  soda-water  that 
on  this  and  that  occasion  were  found  to  be  the 
sole  means  of  sustenance  to  this  ethereal  crea 
ture. 

As  to  the  story  of  using  his  wife's  money,  the 
lady  gives,  directly  in  the  face  of  his  own  Letters 
and  Journal,  the  same  account  given  before  by 
Medwin,  and  which  caused  such  merriment  when 
talked  over  in  the  Noctes  Club,  —  that  he  had 
with  her  only  a  marriage-portion  of  ;£  10,000  ; 
and  that,  on  the  separation,  he  not  only  paid  it 
back,  but  doubled  it.* 

So  on  the  authoress  goes,  sowing  right  and 
left  the  most  transparent  absurdities  and  mis- 
statements  with  what  Carlyle  well  calls  "  a  com- 

*  In  the  Noctes  of  November,  1824,  Christopher  North  says,  "I  don't 
call  Medwin  a  liar.  .  .  .  Whether  Byron  bammed  him,  or  he,  by  virtue 
of  his  own  stupidity,  was  the  sole  and  sufficient  bammifier  of  himself,  I 
know  not."  A  note  says,  that  Murray  had  been  much  shocked  by  Byron's 
misstatements  to  Medwin  as  to  money-matters  with  him.  The  note  goes  on 
to  say,  "  Medwin  could  not  have  invented  them,  for  they  were  mixed  up 
with  acknowledged  facts ;  and  the  presumption  is,  tliat  Byron  mystified  his 
gallant  acquaintance.  He  was  fond  of  such  tricks." 


ATTACK   ON    LADY    BYRON S    GRAVE.          179 

posed  stupidity,  and  a  cheerful  infinitude  of 
ignorance."  Who  £&##/// know,  if  not  she,  to  be 
sure  ?  Had  not  Byron  told  her  all  about  it  ?  and 
was  not  his  family  motto  Crede  Byron  ? 

The  "  Blackwood,"  having  a  dim  suspicion  that 
this  confused  style  of  attack  and  defence  in 
reference  to  the  two  parties  under  consideration 
may  not  have  great  weight,  itself  proceeds  to 
make  the  book  an  occasion  for  re-opening  the 
controversy  of  Lord  Byron  with  his  wife. 

The  rest  of  the  review  is  devoted  to  a  power 
ful  attack  on  Lady  Byron's  character,  —  the  most 
fearful  attack  on  the  memory  of  a  dead  woman 
we  have  ever  seen  made  by  a  living  man.  The 
author  proceeds,  like  a  lawyer,  to  gather  up, 
arrange,  and  restate,  in  a  most  workmanlike 
manner,  the  confused  accusations  of  the  book. 

Anticipating  the  objection,  that  such  a  re 
opening  of  the  inquiry  was  a  violation  of  the 
privacy  due  to  womanhood  and  to  the  feelings 
of  a  surviving  family,  he  says,  that  though  mar 
riage  usually  is  a  private  matter  which  the 


l8O    ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON's  GRAVE. 

world  has  no  right  to  intermeddle  with  or  dis 
cuss,  yet  — 

"  Lord  Byron's  was  an  exceptional  case.  It  is  not  too  much 
to  say,  that,  had  his  marriage  been  a  happy  one,  the  course  of 
events  of  the  present  century  might  have  been  materially 
changed ;  that  the  genius  which  poured  itself  forth  in  '  Don 
Juan  '  and  '  Cain '  might  have  flowed  in  far  different  channels  ; 
that  the  ardent  love  of  freedom  which  sent  him  to  perish  at  six 
and  thirty  at  Missolonghi  might  have  inspired  a  long  career  at 
home  ;  and  that  we  might  at  this  moment  have  been  appealing 
to  the  counsels  of  his  experience  and  wisdom  at  an  age  not 
exceeding  that  which  was  attained  by  Wellington,  Lyndhurst, 
and  Brougham. 

"  Whether  the  world  would  have  been  a  gainer  or  a  loser  by 
the  exchange  is  a  question  which  every  man  must  answer  for 
himself,  according  to  his  own  tastes  and  opinions  ;  but  the 
possibility  of  such  a  change  in  the  course  of  events  warrants 
us  in  treating  what  would  otherwise  be  a  strictly  private  matter 
as  one  of  public  interest. 

"  More  than  half  a  century  has  elapsed,  the  actors  have 
departed  from  the  stage,  the  curtain  has  fallen  ;  and  whether  it 
will  ever  again  be  raised  so  as  to  reveal  the  real  facts  of  the 
drama,  may,  as  we  have  already  observed,  be  well  doubted. 
But  the  time  has  arrived  when  we  may  fairly  gather  up  the 
fragments  of  evidence,  clear  them  as  far  as  possible  from  the 
incrustations  of  passion,  prejudice,  and  malice,  and  place  them 


ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON'S  GRAVE.    l8l 

in  such  order,  as,  if  possible,  to  enable  us  to  arrive  at  some 
probable  conjecture  as  to  what  the  skeleton  of  the  drama 
originally  was." 

Here  the  writer  proceeds  to  put  together  all 
the  facts  of  Lady  Byron's  case,  just  as  an  ad 
verse  lawyer  would  put  them  as  against  her,  and 
for  her  husband.  The  plea  is  made  vigorously 
and  ably,  and  with  an  air  of  indignant  severity, 
as  of  an  honest  advocate  who  is  thoroughly 
convinced  that  he  is  pleading  the  cause  of  a 
wronged  man  who  has  been  ruined  in  name, 
shipwrecked  in  life,  and  driven  to  an  early  grave, 
by  the  arts  of  a  bad  woman,  —  a  woman  all  the 
more  horrible  that  her  malice  was  disguised 
under  the  cloak  of  religion. 

Having  made  an  able  statement  of  facts, 
adroitly  leaving  out  ONE,*  of  which  he  could  not 
have  been  ignorant  had  he  studied  the  case  care 
fully  enough  to  know  all  the  others,  he  proceeds 
to  sum  up  against  the  criminal  thus  :  — 

*  This  one  fact  is,  that  Lord  Byron  might  have  had  an  open  examination 
in  court,  if  he  had  only  persisted  in  refusing  the  deed  of  separation. 


1 82    ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON's  GRAVE. 

"  We  would  deal  tenderly  with  the  memory  of  Lady  Byron. 
Few  women  have  been  juster  objects  of  compassion.  It  would 
seem  as  if  Nature  and  Fortune  had  vied  with  each  other  which 
should  be  most  lavish  of  her  gifts,  and  yet  that  some  malignant 
power  had  rendered  all  their  bounty  of  no  effect.  Rank, 
beauty,  wealth,  and  mental  powers  of  no  common  order,  were 
hers  ;  yet  they  were  of  no  avail  to  secure  her  happiness.  The 
spoilt  child  of  seclusion,  restraint,  and  parental  idolatry,  a  fate 
(alike  evil  for  both)  cast  her  into  the  arms  of  the  spoilt  child 
of  genius,  passion,  and  the  world.  What  real  or  fancied  wrongs 
she  suffered,  we  may  never  know ;  but  those  which  she  inflicted 
are  sufficiently  apparent. 

"  It  is  said  that  there  are  some  poisons  so  subtle  that  they 
will  destroy  life,  and  yet  leave  no  trace  of  their  action.  The 
murderer  who  uses  them  may  escape  the  vengeance  of  the  law  ; 
but  he  is  not  the  less  guilty.  So  the  slanderer  who  makes  no 
charge  ;  who  deals  in  hints  and  insinuations ;  who  knows 
melancholy  facts  he  would  not  willingly  divulge, — things  too 
painful  to  state  ;  who  forbears,  expresses  pity,  sometimes  even 
affection,  for  his  victim,  shrugs  his  shoulders,  looks  with 

'  The  significant  eye, 
Which  learns  to  lie  with  silence,'  — 

is  far  more  guilty  than  he  who  tells  the  bold  falsehood  which 
may  be  met  and  answered,  and  who  braves  the  punishment 
which  must  follow  upon  detection. 


ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON'S  GRAVE.    183 

"  Lady  Byron  has  been  called 

'  The  moral  Clytemnestra  of  her  lord.' 

The  '  moral  Brinvilliers  '  would  have  been  a  truer  designation. 

"The  conclusion  at  which  we  arrive  is,  that  there  is  no 
proof  whatever  that  Lord  Byron  was  guilty  of  any  act  that 
need  have  caused  a  separation,  or  prevented  a  re-union,  and 
that  the  imputations  upon  him  rest  on  the  vaguest  conjecture  ; 
that  whatever  real  or  fancied  wrongs  Lady  Byron  may  have 
endured  are  shrouded  in  an  impenetrable  mist  of  her  own 
creation,  —  a  poisonous  miasma  in  which  she  enveloped  the 
character  of  her  husband, — raised  by  her  breath,  and  which 
her  breath  only  could  have  dispersed. 

'  She  dies,  and  makes  no  sign.     O  God  !  forgive  her.'  " 

As  we  have  been  obliged  to  review  accusa 
tions  on  Lady  Byron  founded  on  old  Greek 
tragedy,  so  now  we  are  forced  to  abridge  a 
passage  from  a  modern  conversations-lexicon, 
that  we  may  understand  what  sort  of  compari 
sons  are  deemed  in  good  taste  in  a  conservative 
English  review,  when  speaking  of  ladies  of  rank 
in  their  graves. 

Under  the  article  "  Brinvilliers,"  we  find  as 
follows  :  — 


184    ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON'S  GRAVE. 

"MARGUERITE  D'AUBRAI,  MARCHIONESS   OF  BRINVILLIERS. 

—  The  singular  atrocity  of  this  woman  gives  her  a  sort  of 
infamous  claim  to  notice.  She  was  born  in  Paris  in  1651;  being 
daughter  of  D'Aubrai,  lieutenant-civil  of  Paris,  who  married 
her  to  the  Marquis  of  Brinvilliers.  Although  possessed  of 
attractions  to  captivate  lovers,  she  was  for  some  time  much 
attached  to  her  husband,  but  at  length  became  madly  in  love 
with  a  Gascon  officer.  Her  father  imprisoned  the  officer  in  the 
Bastille  ;  and,  while  there,  he  learned  the  art  of  compounding 
subtle  and  most  mortal  poisons  ;  and,  when  he  was  released,  he 
taught  it  to  the  lady,  who  exercised  it  with  such  success,  that,  in 
one  year,  her  father,  sister,  and  two  brothers,  became  her  victims. 
She  professed  the  utmost  tenderness  for  her  victims,  and  nursed 
them  assiduously.  On  her  father  she  is  said  to  have  made 
eight  attempts  before  she  succeeded.  She  was  very  religious, 
and  devoted  to  works  of  charity ;  and  visited  the  hospitals  a 
great  deal,  where  it  is  said  she  tried  her  poisons  on  the  sick." 

People  have  made  loud  outcries  lately,  both  in 
America  and  England,  about  violating  the  repose 
of  the  dead.  We  should  like  to  know  what  they 
call  this.  Is  this,  then,  what  they  mean  by 
respecting  the  dead  ? 

Let  any  man  imagine  a  leading  review  coming 
out  with  language  equally  brutal  about  his  own 
mother,  or  any  dear  and  revered  friend. 


ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON'S  GRAVE.    185 

Men  of  America,  men  of  England,  what  do 
you  think  of  this  ? 

When  Lady  Byron  was  publicly  branded  with 
the  names  of  the  foulest  ancient  and  foulest 
modern  assassins,  and  Lord  Byron's  mistress  was 
publicly  taken  by  the  hand,  and  encouraged  to 
go  on  and  prosper  in  her  slanders,  by  one  of  the 
oldest  and  most  influential  British  reviews,  what 
was  said  and  what  was  done  in  England  ? 

That  is  a  question  we  should  be  glad  to  have 
answered.  Nothing  was  done  that  ever  reached 
us. across  the  water. 

And  why  was  nothing  done  ?  Is  this  language 
of  a  kind  to  be  passed  over  in  silence  ? 

Was  it  no  offence  to  the  .house  of  Wentworth 
to  attack  the  pure  character  of  its  late  venera 
ble  head,  and  to  brand  her  in  her  sacred  grave 
with  the  name  of  one  of  the  vilest  of  criminals  ? 

Might  there  not  properly  have  been  an  indig 
nant  protest  of  family  solicitors  against  this  in 
sult  to  the  person  and  character  of  the  Baroness 
Wentworth  ? 


1 86    ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON'S  GRAVE. 

If  virtue  went  for  nothing,  benevolence  for 
nothing,  a  long  life  of  service  to  humanity  for 
nothing,  one  would  at  least  have  thought,  that, 
in  aristocratic  countries,  rank  might  have  had 
its  rights  to  decent  consideration,  and  its  guar 
dians  to  rebuke  the  violation  of  those  rights. 

We  Americans  understand  little  of  the  advan 
tages  of  rank  ;  but  we  did  understand  that  it 
secured  certain  decorums  to  people,  both  while 
living  and  when  in  their  graves.  From  Lady 
Byron's  whole  history,  in  life  and  in  death,  it 
would  appear  that  we  were  mistaken. 

What  a  life  was  hers  !  Was  ever  a  woman 
more  evidently  desirous  of  the  delicate  and  se 
cluded  privileges  of  womanhood,  of  the  sacred- 
ness  of  individual  privacy  ?  Was  ever  a  woman 
so  rudely  dragged  forth,  and  exposed  to  the 
hardened,  vulgar,  and  unfeeling  gaze  of  mere 
curiosity?  —  her  maiden  secrets  of  love  thrown 
open  to  be  handled  by  roues ;  the  sanctities  of 
her  marriage-chamber  desecrated  by  leering 
satyrs  ;  her  parents  and  best  friends  traduced 


1 87 

and  slandered,  till  one  indignant  public  protest 
was  extorted  from  her,  as  by  the  rack,  —  a  pro 
test  which  seems  yet  to  quiver  in  every  word 
with  the  indignation  of  outraged  womanly  deli 
cacy  ! 

Then  followed  coarse  blame  and  coarser  com 
ment,  —  blame  for  speaking  at  all,  and  blame  for 
not  speaking  more.  One  manly  voice,  raised 
for  her  in  honorable  protest,  was  silenced  and 
overborne  by  the  universal  roar  of  ridicule  and 
reprobation ;  and  henceforth  what  refuge  ?  Only 
this  remained  :  "  Let  them  that  suffer  according 
to  the  will  of  God  commit  the  keeping  of  their 
souls  to  him  as  to  a  faithful  Creator." 

Lady  Byron  turned  to  this  refuge  in  silence, 
and  filled  up  her  life  with  a  noble  record  of 
charities  and  humanities.  So  pure  was  she,  so 
childlike,  so  artless,  so  loving,  that  those  who 
knew  her  best,  feel,  to  this  day,  that  a  memorial 
of  her  is  like  the  relic  of  a  saint.  And  could 
not  all  this  preserve  her  grave  from  insult  ?  O 
England,  England  ! 


1 88    ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON'S  GRAVE.    . 

I  speak  in  sorrow  of  heart  to  those  who  must 
have  known,  loved,  and  revered  Lady  Byron, 
and  ask  them,  Of  what  were  you  thinking  when 
you  allowed  a  paper  of  so  established  literary 
rank  as  the  "  Blackwood  "  to  present  and 
earnestly  recommend  to  our  New  World  such 
a  compendium  of  lies  as  the  Guiccioli  book  ? 

Is  the  great  English-speaking  community, 
whose  waves  toss  from  Maine  to  California, 
and  whose  literature  is  yet  to  come  back  in 
a  thousand  voices  to  you,  a  thing  to  be  so 
despised  ? 

If,  as  the  solicitors  of  the  Wentworth  family 
observe,  you  might  be  entitled  to  treat  with  si 
lent  contempt  the  slanders  of  a  mistress  against 
a  wife,  was  it  safe  to  treat  with  equal  contempt 
the  indorsement  and  recommendation  of  those 
slanders  by  one  of  your  oldest  and  most  power 
ful  literary  authorities  ? 

No  European  magazine  has  ever  had  the 
weight  and  circulation  in  America  that  the 
"  Blackwood "  has  held.  In  the  days  of  my 


ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON's  GRAVE.     189 

youth,  when  New  England  was  a  comparatively 
secluded  section  of  the  earth,  the  wit  and  genius 
of  the  "Noctcs  Ambrosianas  "  were  in  the  mouths 
of  men  and  maidens,  even  in  our  most  quiet 
mountain-towns.  There,  years  ago,  we  saw  all 
Lady  Byron's  private  affairs  discussed,  and  felt 
the  weight  of  Christopher  North's  decisions 
against  her.  Shelton  Mackenzie,  in  his  Ameri 
can  edition,  speaks  of  the  American  circulation 
of  "  Blackwood "  being  greater  than  that  in 
England.*  It  was  and  is  now  reprinted 
monthly  ;  and,  besides  that,  Littell's  Magazine 
reproduces  all  its  striking  articles,  and  they 
come  with  the  weight  of  long-established  posi 
tion.  From  the  very  fact  that  it  has  long 
been  considered  the  Tory  organ,  and  the  sup 
porter  of  aristocratic  orders,  all  its  admissions 

*  In  the  history  of  "  Blackwood's  Magazine."  prefaced  to  the  American 
edition  of  1854,  Mackenzie  says  of  the  "  Noctes  "  papers,  "Great  as  was 
their  popularity  in  England,  it  was  peculiarly  in  America  that  their  high 
merit  and  undoubted  originality  received  the  heartiest  recognition  and  appre 
ciation.  Nor  is  this  wonderful,  when  it  is  considered,  that,  for  one  reader  of 
'Blackwood's  Magazine"  in  the  old  country,  there  cannot  be  less  than  fifty 
in  the  new." 


ATTACK    ON    LADY    BYRON  S    GRAVE. 

against  the  character  of  individuals  in  the  privi 
leged  classes  have  a  double  force. 

When  "  Blackwood,"  therefore,  boldly  de 
nounces  a  lady  of  high  rank  as  a  modern  Brin- 
villiers,  and  no  sensation  is  produced,  and  no 
remonstrance  follows,  what  can  people  in  the 
New  World  suppose,  but  that  Lady  Byron's 
character  was  a  point  entirely  given  up  ;  that 
her  depravity,  was  so  well  established  and  so 
fully  conceded,  that  nothing  was  to  be  said, 
and  that  even  the  defenders  of  aristocracy  were 
forced  to  admit  it  ? 

I  have  been  blamed  for  speaking  on  this  sub 
ject  without  consulting  Lady  Byron's  friends, 
trustees,  and  family.  More  than  ten  years  had 
elapsed  since  I  had  had  any  intercourse  with 
England,  and  I  knew  none  of  them.  How  was 
I  to  know  that  any  of  them  were  living  ?  It 
was  perfectly  fair  for  me  to  conclude  that  they 
were  not ;  for,  if  they  had  been,  they  certainly 
must  have  taken  some  public  steps  to  stop  such 
a  scandal.  I  was  astonished  to  learn,  for  the 


ATTACK    ON    LADY    BYRON  S    GRAVE.          IQI 

first  time,  by  the  solicitors'  letters,  that  there 
were  trustees,  who  held  in  their  hands  all  Lady 
Byron's  carefully-prepared  proofs  and  documents, 
by  which  this  falsehood  might  immediately  have 
been  refuted. 

If  they  had  spoken,  they  might  have  saved 
all  this  confusion.  Even  if  bound  by  restric 
tions  for  a  certain  period  of  time,  they  still 
might  have  called  on  a  Christian  public  to 
frown  down  such  a  cruel  and  indecent  attack  on 
the  character  of  a  noble  lady  who  had  been  a 
benefactress  to  so  many  in  England.  They 
might  have  stated  that  the  means  of  wholly 
refuting  the  slanders  of  the  "  Blackwood  "  were 
in  their  hands,  and  only  delayed  in  coming  forth 
from  regard  to  the  feelings  of  some  in  this  gen 
eration.  Then  might  they  not  have  announced 
her  Life  and  Letters,  that  the  public  might  have 
the  same  opportunity  as  themselves  for  knowing 
and  judging  Lady  Byron  by  her  own  writings  ? 

Had  this  been  done,  I  had  been  most  happy 
to  have  remained  silent.  I  have  been  aston- 


1 92    ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON's  GRAVE. 

ished  that  any  one  should  have  supposed  this 
speaking  on  my  part  to  be  any  thing  less  than 
it  is,  —  the  severest  act  of  self-sacrifice  that 
one  friend  can  perform  for  another,  and  the 
most  solemn  and  difficult  tribute  to  justice  that 
a  human  being  can  be  called  upon  to  render. 

I  have  been  informed  that  the  course  I  have 
taken  would  be  contrary  to  the  wishes  of  my 
friend.  I  think  otherwise.  I  know  her  strong 
sense  of  justice,  and  her  reverence  for  truth. 
Nothing  ever  moved  her  to  speak  to  the  public 
but  an  attack  upon  the  honor  of  the  dead.  In 
her  statement,  she  says  of  her  parents,  "  There 
is  no  other  near  relative  to  vindicate  their 
memory  from  insult :  I  am  therefore  compelled 
to  break  the  silence  I  had  hoped  always  to  have 
observed." 

If  there  was  any  near  relative  to  vindicate 
Lady  Byron's  memory,  I  had  no  evidence  of 
the  fact ;  and  I  considered  the  utter  silence  to 
be  strong  evidence  to  the  contrary.  In  all  the 
storm  of  obloquy  and  rebuke  that  has  raged  in 


ATTACK    ON    LADY    BYRON S    GRAVE.          I 93 

consequence  of  my  speaking,  I  have  had  two 
unspeakable  sources  of  joy :  first,  that  they 
could  not  touch  her ;  and,  second,  that  they 
could  not  blind  the  all-seeing  God.  It  is  worth 
being  in  darkness  to  see  the  stars. 

It  has  been  said  that  /  have  drawn  on  Lady 
Byron's  name  greater  obloquy  than  ever  before. 
I  deny  the  charge.  Nothing  fouler  has  been 
asserted  of  her  than  the  charges  of  the  "  Black- 
wood,"  because  nothing  fouler  could  be  asserted. 
No  satyr's  hoof  has  ever  crushed  this  pearl 
deeper  in  the  mire  than  the  hoof  of  the  "  Black- 
wood  ;  "  but  none  of  them  have  so  defiled  it  or 
trodden  it  so  deep  that  God  cannot  find  it  in 
the  day  "when  he  maketh  up  his  jewels." 

I  have  another  word,  as  an  American,  to  say 
about  the  contempt  shown  to  our  great  people 
in  thus  suffering  the  materials  of  history  to  be 
falsified  to  subserve  the  temporary  purposes  of 
family  feeling  in  England. 

Lord  Byron  belongs  not  properly  either  to 
the  Byrons  or  the  Wentworths.  He  is  not  one 


194    ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON  S  GRAVE. 

of  their  family  jewels,  to  be  locked  up  in  their 
cases.  He  belongs  to  the  world  for  which  he 
wrote,  to  which  he  appealed,  and  before  which 
he  dragged  his  reluctant,  delicate  wife  to  a 
publicity  equal  with  his  own  :  the  world  has, 
therefore,  a  right  to  judge  him. 

We  Americans  have  been  made  accessories, 
after  the  fact,  to  every  insult  and  injury  that 
Lord  Byron  and  the  literary  men  of  his  day  have 
heaped  upon  Lady  Byron.  We  have  been 
betrayed  into  injustice,  and  a  complicity  with 
villany.  After  Lady  Byron  had  nobly  lived  down 
slanders  in  England,  and  died  full  of  years  and 
honors,  the  "  Blackwood "  takes  occasion  to 
re-open  the  controversy  by  recommending  a 
book  full  of  slanders  to  a  rising  generation  who 
knew  nothing  of  the  past.  What  was  the  con 
sequence  in  America  ?  My  attention  was  first 
called  to  the  result,  not  by  reading  the  "  Black- 
wood  "  article,  but  by  finding  in  a  popular 
monthly  magazine  two  long  articles,  —  the  one 
an  enthusiastic  recommendation  of  the  Guiccioli 


ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON  S  GRAVE.    195 

book,  and  the  other  a  lamentation  over  the 
burning  of  the  Autobiography  as  a  lost  chapter 
in  history. 

Both  articles  represented  Lady  Byron  as  a 
cold,  malignant,  mean,  persecuting  woman,  who 
had  been  her  husband's  ruin.  They  were  so  full 
of  falsehoods  and  misstatements  as  to  astonish 
me.  Not  long  after,  a  literary  friend  wrote  to 
me,  "  Will  you,  can  you,  reconcile  it  to  your 
,  conscience  to  sit  still  and  allow  that  mistress  so 
to  slander  that  wife,  —  you,  perhaps,  the  only 
one  knowing  the  real  facts,  and  able  to  set  them 
forth  ?  " 

Upon  this,  I  immediately  began  collecting 
and  reading  the  various  articles  and  the  book, 
and  perceived  that  the  public  of  this  generation 
were  in  a  way  of  having  false  history  created, 
uncontradicted,  under  their  own  eyes. 

I  claim  for  my  country  men  and  women  our 
right  to  true  history.  For  years,  the  popular 
literature  has  held  u.p  publicly  before  our 
eyes  the  facts  as  to  this  man  and  this  woman, 


ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRONS  GRAVE. 


and  called  on  us  to  praise  or  condemn.  Let  us 
have  truth  when  we  are  called  on  to  judge.  It 
is  our  right. 

There  is  no  conceivable  obligation  on  a 
human  being  greater  than  that  of  absolute 
justice.  It  is  the  deepest  personal  injury  to  an 
honorable  mind  to  be  made,  through  misrepre 
sentation,  an  accomplice  in  injustice.  When  a 
noble  name  is  accused,  any  person  who  pos 
sesses  truth  which  might  clear  it,  and  withholds 
that  truth,  is  guilty  of  a  sin  against  human 
nature  and  the  inalienable  claims  of  justice.  I 
claim  that  I  have  not  only  a  right,  but  an  obliga 
tion,  to  bring  in  my  solemn  testimony  upon  this 
subject 

For  years  and  years,  the  silence-policy  has 
been  tried  ;  and  what  has  it  brought  forth  ?  As 
neither  word  nor  deed  could  be  proved  against 
Lady  Byron,  her  silence  has  been  spoken  of  as  a 
monstrous,  unnatural  crime,  "a  poisonous  mi 
asma,"  in  which  she  enveloped  the  name  of  her 
husband. 


ATTACK  ON  LADY  BYRON S  GRAVE. 

Very  well:  since  silence  is  the  crime,  I 
thought  I  would  tell  the  world  that  Lady  Byron 
had  spoken. 

Christopher  North,  years  ago,  when  he  con 
demned  her  for  speaking,  said  that  she  should 
speak  further,  — 

"  She  should  speak,  or  some  one  for  her.  One 
word  would  suffice.'5 

That  one  word  I  have  spoken. 


PART   II, 


PART     II. 


A 


CHAPTER    I. 

LADY   BYRON    AS    I    KNEW   HER. 

N    editorial   in   "  The    London  Times "  of 
Sept.  1 8  says,  — 


"  The  perplexing  feature  in  this  '  True  Story '  is,  that  it  is 
impossible  to  distinguish  what  part  in  it  is  the  editress's,  and 
what  Lady  Byron's  own.  We  are  given  the  impression  made  on 
Mrs.  Stowe's  mind  by  Lady  Byron's  statements  ;  but  it  would 
have  been  more  satisfactory  if  the  statement  itself  had  been 
reproduced  as  bare  as  possible,  and  been  left  to  make  its  own 
impression  on  the  public." 

In  reply  to  this,  I  will  say,  that  in  my  article  I 
gave  a  brief  synopsis  of  the  subject-matter  of 
Lady  Byron's  communications ;  and  I  think  it 
must  be  quite  evident  to  the  world  that  the  main 


2O2  LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER. 

fact  on  which  the  story  turns  was  one  which 
could  not  possibly  be  misunderstood,  and  the 
remembrance  of  which  no  lapse  of  time  could 
ever  weaken. 

Lady  Byron's  communications  were  made  to 
me  in  language  clear,  precise,  terrible ;  and 
many  of  her  phrases  and  sentences  I  could 
repeat  at  this  day,  word  for  word.  But  if  I 
had  reproduced  them  at  first,  as  "  The  Times  " 
suggests,  word  for  word,  the  public  horror  and 
incredulity  would  have  been  doubled.  '  It  was 
necessary  that  the  brutality  of  the  story  should, 
in  some  degree,  be  veiled  and  softened. 

The  publication,  by  Lord  Lindsay,  of  Lady 
Anne  Barnard's  communication,  makes  it  now 
possible  to  tell  fully,  and  in  Lady  Byron's  own 
words,  certain  incidents  that  yet  remain  untold. 
To  me  who  know  the  whole  history,  the  revela 
tions  in  Lady  Anne's  account,  and  the  story  re 
lated  by  Lady  Byron,  are  like  fragments  of  a 
dissected  map  :  they  fit  together,  piece  by  piece, 
and  form  one  connected  whole. 


LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER.  2O3 

In  confirmation  of  the  general  facts  of  this 
interview,  I  have  the  testimony  of  a  sister  who 
accompanied  me  on  this  visit,  and  to  whom,  im 
mediately  after  it,  I  recounted  the  story. 

Her  testimony  on  the  subject  is  as  follows  :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  SISTER,  —  I  have  a  perfect  recollection  of  going 
with  you  to  visit  Lady  Byron  at  the  time  spoken  of  in  your 
published  article.  We  arrived  at  her  house  in  the  morning  ; 
and,  after  lunch,  Lady  Byron  and  yourself  spent  the  whole 
time  till  evening  alone  together. 

"  After  we  retired  to  our  apartment  that  night,  you  related 
to  me  the  story  given  in  your  published  account,  though  with 
many  more  particulars  than  you  have  yet  thought  fit  to  give  to 
the  public. 

"  You  stated  to  me  that  Lady  Byron  was  strongly  impressed 
with  the  idea  that  it  might  be  her  duty  to  publish  a  statement 
during  her  lifetime,  and  also  the. reasons  which  induced  her  to 
think  so.  You  appeared  at  that  time  quite  disposed  to  think 
that  justice  required  this  step,  and  asked  my  opinion.  We 
passed  most  of  the  night  in  conversation  on  the  subject,  —  a 
conversation  often  resumed,  from  time  to  time,  during  several 
weeks  in  which  you  were  considering  what  opinion  to  give. 

"  I  was  strongly  of  opinion  that  justice  required  the  publica 
tion  of  the  truth,  but  felt  exceedingly  averse  to  its  being  done 
by  Lady  Byron  herself  during  her  own  lifetime,  when  she 


2O4  LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER. 

personally  would  be  subject  to  the  comments  and  misconcep 
tions  of  motives  which  would  certainly  follow  such  a  communi 
cation.  "  Your  sister, 

"  M.  F.  PERKINS." 

I  am  now  about  to  complete  the  account  of 
my  conversation  with  Lady  Byron  ;  but  as  the 
credibility  of  a  history  depends  greatly  on  the 
character  of  its  narrator,  and  as  especial  pains 
have  been  taken  to  destroy  the  belief  in  this 
story  by  representing  it  to  be  the  wanderings  of 
a  broken-down  mind  in  a  state  of  dotage  and 
mental  hallucination,  I  shall  preface  the  narra 
tive  with  some  account  of  Lady  Byron  as  she 
was  during  the  time  of  our  mutual  acquaintance 
and  friendship. 

This  account  may,  perhaps,  be  deemed  super 
fluous  in  England,  where  so  many  knew  her  ;  but 
in  America,  where,  from  Maine  to  California, 
her  character  has  been  discussed  and  traduced, 
it  is  of  importance  to  give  interested  thousands 
an  opportunity  of  learning  what  kind  of  a  wo 
man  Lady  Byron  was. 


LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER.  20$ 

Her  character  as  given  by  Lord  Byron  in 
his  Journal,  after  her  first  refusal  of  him,  is 
this  :  — 

"  She  is  a  very  superior  woman,  and  very  little  spoiled  ; 
which  is  strange  in  an  heiress,  a  girl  of  twenty,  a  peeress 
that  is  to  be  in  her  own  right,  an  only  child,  and  a  savante,  who 
has  always  had  her'own  way.  She  is  a  poetess,  a  mathemati 
cian,  a  metaphysician  ;  yet,  withal,  very  kind,  generous,  and 
gentle,  with  very  little  pretension.  Any  other  head  would  be 
turned  with  half  her  acquisitions  and  a  tenth  of  her  advan 
tages." 

Such  was  Lady  Byron  at  twenty.  I  formed 
her  acquaintance  in  the  year  1853,  during  my 
first  visit  in  England.  I  met  her  at  a  lunch- 
party  in  the  house  of  one  of  her  friends. 

The  party  had  many  notables  ;  but,  among 
them  all,  my  attention  was  fixed  principally  on 
Lady  Byron.  She  was  at  this  time  sixty-one 
years  of  age,  but  still  had,  to  a  remarkable  de 
gree,  that  personal  attraction  which  is  commonly 
considered  to  belong  only  to  youth  and  beauty. 

Her  form  was  slight,  giving  an  impression  of 


2O6  LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER. 

fragility  ;  her  motions  were  both  graceful  and  de 
cided  ;  her  eyes  bright,  and  full  of  interest  and 
quick  observation.  Her  silvery-white  hair  seemed 
to  lend  a  grace  to  the  transparent  purity  of  her 
complexion,  and  her  small  hands  had  a  pearly 
whiteness.  I  recollect  she  wore  a  plain  widow's 
cap  of  a  transparent  material ;  arid  was  dressed 
in  some  delicate  shade  of  lavender,  which  har 
monized  well  with  her  complexion. 

When  I  was  introduced  to  her,  I  felt  in  a  mo 
ment  the  words  of  her  husband  :  — 

"  There  was  awe  in  the  homage  that  she  drew ; 
Her  spirit  seemed  as  seated  on  a  throne." 

Calm,  self-poised,  and  thoughtful,  she  seemed  to 
me  rather  to  resemble  an  interested  spectator  of 
the  world's  affairs,  than  an  actor  involved  in  its 
trials  ;  yet  the  sweetness  of  her  smile,  and  a 
certain  very  delicate  sense  of  humor  in  her 
remarks,  made  the  way  of  acquaintance  easy. 

Her  first  remarks  were  a  little  playful ;  but  in 
a  few  moments  we  were  speaking  on  what  every 


LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER.  2O/ 

one  in  those  days  was  talking  to  me  about,  —  the 
slavery  question  in  America. 

It  need  not  be  remarked,  that,  when  any  one 
subject  especially  occupies  the  public  mind,  those 
known  to  be  interested  in  it  are  compelled  to 
listen  to  many  weary  platitudes.  Lady  Byron's 
remarks,  however,  caught  rny  ear  and  arrested 
my  attention  by  their  peculiar  incisive  quality, 
their  originality,  and  the  evidence  they  gave  that 
she  was  as  well  informed  on  all  our  matters  as 
the  best  American  statesman  could  be.  I  had 
no  wearisome  course  to  go  over  with  her  as  to 
the  difference  between  the  General  Government 
and  State  Governments,  nor  explanations  of  the 
United-States  Constitution ;  for  she  had  the  whole 
before  her  mind  with  a  perfect  clearness.  Her 
morality  upon  the  slavery  question,  too,  im 
pressed  me  as  something  far  higher  and  deeper 
than  the  common  sentimentalism  of  the  day. 
Many  of  her  words  surprised  me  greatly,  and 
gave  me  new  material  for  thought. 

I  found  I  was  in  company  with  a  commanding 


2O8  LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER. 

mind,  and  hastened  to  gain  instruction  from  her 
on  another  point  where  my  interest  had  been 
aroused.  I  had  recently  been  much  excited  by 
Kingsley's  novels,  "Alton  Locke"  and  "Yeast," 
on  the  position  of  the  religious  thought  in 
England.  From  these  works  I  had  gathered, 
that  under  the  apparent  placid  uniformity  of  the 
Established  Church  of  England,  and  of  "  good  so 
ciety  "  as  founded  on  it,  there  was  moving  a  secret 
current  of  speculative  inquiry,  doubt,  and  dissent ; 
but  I  had  met,  as  yet,  with  no  person  among  my. 
various  acquaintances  in  England  who  seemed 
either  aware  of  this  fact,  or  able  to  guide  my 
mind  respecting  it.  The  moment  I  mentioned 
the  subject  to  Lady  Byron,  I  received  an  answer 
which  showed  me  that  the  whole  ground  was  fa 
miliar  to  her,  and  that  she  was  capable  of  giving 
me  full  information.  She  had  studied  with  care 
ful  thoughtfulness  all  the  social  and  religious 
tendencies  of  England  during  her  generation. 
One  of  her  remarks  has  often  since  occurred  to 
me.  Speaking  of  the  Oxford  movement,  she 


LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER.  2OQ 

said  the  time  had  come  when  the  English  Church 
could  no  longer  remain  as  it  was.  It  must  either 
restore  the  past,  or  create  a  future.  The  Oxford 
movement  attempted  the  former ;  and  of  the 
future  she  was  beginning  to  speak,  when  our 
conversation  was  interrupted  by  the  presenta 
tion  of  other  parties. 

Subsequently,  in  reply  to  a  note  from  her  on 
some  benevolent  business,  I  alluded  to  that  con 
versation,  and  expressed  a  wish  that  she  would 
finish  giving  me  her  views  of  the  religious  state 
of  England.  A  portion  of  the  letter  that  she 
wrote  me  in  reply  I  insert,  as  being  very  charac 
teristic  in  many  respects  :  — 

"  Various  causes  have  been  assigned  for  the  decaying  state 
of  the  English  Church  ;  which  seems  the  more  strange,  because 
the  clergy  have  improved,  morally  and  intellectually,  in  the  last 
twenty  years.  Then  why  should  their  influence  be  diminished  ? 
I  think  it  is  owing  to  the  diffusion  of  a  spirit  of  free  inquiry. 

"  Doubts  have  arisen  in  the  minds  of  many  who  are  unhap 
pily  bound  by  subscription  not  to  doubt ;  and,  in  consequence, 
they  are  habitually  pretending  either  to  believe  or  to  disbelieve. 
The  state  of  Denmark  cannot  but  be  rotten,  when  to  seem  is  the 
first  object  of  the  witnesses  of  truth. 


2IO  LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER. 

"  They  may  lead  better  lives,  and  bring  forward  abler  argu 
ments  ;  but  their  efforts  are  paralyzed  by  that  unsoundness.  I 
see  the  High  Churchman  professing  to  believe  in  the  existence 
of  a  church,  when  the  most  palpable  facts  must  show  him  that 
no  such  church  exists;  the  'Low'  Churchman  professing  to 
believe  in  exceptional  interpositions  which  his  philosophy 
secretly  questions  ;  the  '  Broad '  Churchman  professing  as 
absolute  an  attachment  to  the  Established  Church  as  the  nar 
rowest  could  feel,  while  he  is  preaching  such  principles  as  will 
at  last  pull  it  down. 

"  I  ask  you,  my  friend,  whether  there  would  not  be  more 
faith,  as  well  as  earnestness,  if  all  would  speak  out.  There 
would  be  more  unanimity  too,  because  they  would  all  agree  in 
a  certain  basis.  Would  not  a  wider  love  supersede  the  creed- 
bound  charity  of  setts  ? 

"  I  am  aware  that  I  have  touched  on  a  point  of  difference 
between  us,  and  I  will  not  regret  it ;  for  I  think  the  differences 
of  mind  are  analogous  to  those  differences  of  nature,  which,  in 
the  most  comprehensive  survey,  are  the  very  elements  of  har 
mony. 

"  I  am  not  at  all  prone  to  put  forth  my  own  opinions ;  but 
the  tone  in  which  you  have  written  to  me  claims  an  unusual 
degree  of  openness  on  my  part.  I  look  upon  creeds  of  all  kinds 
as  chains,  —  far  worse  chains  than  those  you  would  break,  — 
as  the  causes  of  much  hypocrisy  and  infidelity.  I  hold  it  to  be  a 
sin  to  make  a  child  say,  'I  believe."1  Lead  it  to  utter  that  belief 
spontaneously.  *  I  also  consider  the  institution  of  an  exclusive 


LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER.  2 1  I 

priesthood,  though  having  been  of  service  in  some  respects,  as 
retarding  the  progress  of  Christianity  at  present.  I  desire  to 
see  a  lay  ministry. 

"  I  will  not  give  you  more  of  my  heterodoxy  at  present  : 
perhaps  I  need  your  pardon,  connected  as  you  are  with  the 
Church,  for  having  said  so  much. 

"  There  are  causes  of  decay  known  to  be  at  work  in  my  frame, 
which  lead  me  to  believe  I  may  not  have  time  to  grow  wiser  ; 
and  I  must  therefore  leave  it  to  others  to  correct  the  conclusions 
I  have  now  formed  from  my  life's  experience.  I  should  feel 
happy  to  discuss  them  personally  with  you ;  for  it  would  be  soul 
to  soul.  In  that  confidence  I  am  yours  most  truly, 

"  A.  I.  NOEL  BYRON." 

% 

It  is  not  necessary  to  prove  to  the  reader 
that  this  letter  is  not  in  the  style  of  a  broken- 
down  old  woman  subject  to  mental  hallucinations. 
It  shows  Lady  Byron's  habits  of  clear,  searching 
analysis,  her  thoughtfulness,  and,  above  all, 
that  peculiar  reverence  for  truth  and  sincerity 
which  was  a  leading  characteristic  of  her 
moral  nature.*  It  also  shows  her  views  of  the 

*  The  reader  is  here  referred  to  Lady  Byron's  other  letters,  printed  in 
Part  III.;  which  also  show  the  peculiarly  active  and  philosophical  char 
acter  of  her  mind,  and  the  class  of  subjects  on  which  it  "habitually  dwelt. 


212  LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER. 

probable  shortness  of  her  stay  on  earth,  derived 
from  the  opinion  of  physicians  about  her  disease, 
which  was  a  gradual  ossification  of  the  lungs. 
It  has  been  asserted  that  pulmonary  diseases, 
while  they  slowly  and  surely  sap  the  physical 
life,  often  appear  to  give  added  vigor  to  the 
play  of  the  moral  and  intellectual  powers. 

I  parted  from  Lady  Byron,  feeling  richer  in 
that  I  had  found  one  more  pearl  of  great  price 
on  the  shore  of  life. 

Three  years  after  this,  I  visited  England  to 
obtain  a  copyright  for  the  issue  of  my  novel  of 
"  Dred." 

The  hope  of  once  more  seeing  Lady  Byron 
was  one  of  the  brightest  anticipations  held  out 
to  me  in  this  journey.  I  found  London  quite 
deserted ;  but,  hearing  that  Lady  Byron  was 
still  in  town,  I  sent  to  her,  saying  in  my  note, 
that,  in  case  she  was  not  well  enough  to  call,  I 
would  visit  her.  Her  reply  I  give  :  — 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  will  be  indebted  to  you  for  our 
meeting,  as  I  am  barely  able  to  leave  my  room.  It  is  not  a  time 


LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER.  213 

for  small  personalities,  if  they  could  ever  exist  with  you  ;  and, 
dressed  or  undressed,  I  shall  hope  to  see  you  after  two  o'clock. 
"  Yours  very  truly, 

"A.  I.  NOEL  BYRON." 

I  found  Lady  Byron  in  her  sick-room,  — 
that  place  which  she  made  so  different  from 
the  chamber  of  ordinary  invalids.  Her  sick 
room  seemed  only  a  telegraphic  station  whence 
her  vivid  mind  was  flashing  out  all  over  the 
world. 

By  her  bedside  stood  a  table  covered  with  books, 
pamphlets,  and  files  of  letters,  all  arranged  with 
exquisite  order,  and  each  expressing  some  of  her 
varied  interests.  From  that  sick-bed  she  still 
directed,  with  systematic  care,  her  various  works 
of  benevolence,  and  watched  with  intelligent 
attention  the  course  of  science,  literature,  and 
religion  ;  and  the  versatility  and  activity  of  her 
mind,  the  flow  of  brilliant  and  penetrating 
thought  on-  all  the  topics  of  the  day,  gave  to  the 
conversations  of  her  retired  room  a  peculiar 
charm.  You  forgot  that  she  was  an  invalid  ;  for 


214  LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER. 

she  rarely  had  a  word  of  her  own  personalities, 
and  the  charm  of  her  conversation  .  carried  you 
invariably  from  herself  to  the  subjects  of  which 
she  was  thinking.  All  the  new  books,  the  litera 
ture  of  the  hour,  were  lighted  up  by  her  keen, 
searching,  yet  always  kindly  criticism  ;  and  it 
was  charming  to  get  her  fresh,  genuine,  clear-cut 
modes  of  expression,  so  different  from  the  world- 
worn  phrases  of  what  is  called  good  society. 
Her  opinions  were  always  perfectly  clear  and 
positive,  and  given  with  the  freedom  of  one  who 
has  long  stood  in  a  position  to  judge  the  world 
and  its  ways  from  her  own  standpoint.  But  it 
was  not  merely  in  general  literature  and  science 
that  her  heart  lay  :  it  was  following  always  with 
eager  interest  the  progress  of  humanity  over  the 
whole  world. 

This  was  the  period  of  the  great  battle  for 
liberty  in  Kansas.  The  English  papers  were 
daily  filled  with  the  thrilling  particulars  of  that 
desperate  struggle,  and  Lady  Byron  entered 
with  heart  and  soul  into  it. 


LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER.  215 

Her  first  letter  to  me,  at  this  time,  is  on  this 
subject.  It  was  while  "  Dred  "  was  going 
through  the  press. 

"CAMBRIDGE  TERRACE,  Aug.  15. 

"Mv  DEAR  MRS.  STOWE,  —  Messrs.  Chambers  liked  the 
proposal  to  publish  the  Kansas  Letters.  The  more  the  public 
know  of  these  matters,  the  better  prepared  they  will  be  for  your 
book.  The  moment  for  its  publication  seems  well  chosen. 
There  is  always  in  England  a  floating  fund  of  sympathy  for 
what  is  above  the  every-day  sordid  cares  of  life  ;  and  these  bet 
ter  feelings,  so  nobly  invested  for  the  last  two  years  in  Florence 
Nightingale's  career,  are  just  set  free.  To  what  will  they  next 
be  attached  ?  If  you  can  lay  hold  of  them,  they  may  bring 
about  a  deeper  abolition  than  any  legislative  one,  —  the  abolition 
of  the  heart-heresy  that  man's  worth  comes,  not  from  God,  but 
from  man. 

"I  have  been  obliged  to  give  up  exertion  again,  but  hope 
soon  to  be  able  to  call  and  make  the  acquaintance  of  your 
daughters.  In  case  you  wish  to  consult  H.  Martineau's  pam 
phlets,  I  send  more  copies.  Do  not  think  of  answering :  I  have 
occupied  too  much  of  your  time  in  reading. 

"  Yours  affectionately,  "  A.  I.  NOEL  BYRON." 

As  soon  as  a  copy  of  "  Dred  "  was  through 
the  press,  I  sent  it  to  her,  saying  that  I  had  been 


2l6  LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER. 

•** 

reproved  by  some  excellent  people  for  repre 
senting  too  faithfully  the  profane  language  of 
some  of  the  wicked  characters.  To  this  she 
sent  the  following  reply  :  — 

"  Your  book,  dear  Mrs.  Stowe,  is  of  the  little  leaven  kind, 
and  must  prove  a  great  moral  force  ;  perhaps  not  manifestly  so 
much  as  secretly.  And  yet  I  can  hardly  conceive  so  much  power 
without  immediate  and  sensible  effects  :  only  there  will  be  a 
strong  disposition  to  resist  on  the  part  of  all  hollow-hearted 
professors  of  religion,  whose  heathenisms  you  so  unsparingly 
expose.  They  have  a  class  feeling  like  others. 

"  To  the  young,  and  to  those  who  do  not  reflect  much  on  what 
is  offered  to  their  belief,  you  will  do  great  good  by  showing  how 
spiritual  food  is  often  adulterated.  The  bread  from  heaven  is  in 
the  same  case  as  baker's  bread. 

"  If  there  is  truth  in  what  I  heard  Lord  Byron  say,  that  works 
of  fiction  live  only  by  the  amount  of  tmith  which  they  contain, 
your  story  is  sure  of  a  long  life.  Of  the  few  critiques  I  have 
seen,  the  best  is  in  '  The  Examiner/  I  find  an  obtuseness  as  to 
the  spirit  and  aim  of  the  book,  as  if  you  had  designed  to  make 
the  best  novel  of  the  season,  or  to  keep  up  the  reputation  of  one. 
You  are  reproached,  as  Walter  Scott  was,  with  too  much  scrip 
tural  quotation  ;  not,  that  I  have  heard,  with  phrases  of  an 
opposite  character. 

"  The  effects  of  such  reading  till  a  late  hour  one  evening 


LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER. 


appeared  to  influence  me  very  singularly  in  a  dream.  The  most 
horrible  spectres  presented  themselves,  and  I  woke  in  an  agony 
of  fear  ;  but  a  faith  still  stronger  arose,  and  I  became  coura 
geous  from  trust  in  God,  and  felt  calm.  Did  you  do  this  ?  It  is 
very  insignificant  among  the  many  things  you  certainly  will  do 
unknown  to  yourself.  I  know  more  than  ever  before  how  to 
value  communion  with  you.  I  have  sent  Robertson's  Sermons 
for  you  ;  and,  with  kind  regards  to  your  family,  am 

"Yours  affectionately,  "A.  I.  NOEL  BYRON." 

I  was  struck  in  this  note  with  the  mention 
of  Lord  Byron,  and,  the  next  time  I  saw  her, 
alluded  to  it,  and  remarked  upon  the  pecu 
liar  qualities  of  his  mind  as  shown  in  some 
of  his  more  serious  conversations  with  Dr. 
Kennedy. 

She  seemed  pleased  to  continue  the  subject, 
and  went  on  to  say  many  things  of  his  singular 
character  and  genius,  more  penetrating  and 
more  appreciative  than  is  often  met  with  among 
critics. 

I  told  her  that  I  had  been  from  childhood 
powerfully  influenced  by  him  ;  and  began  to  tell 
her  how  much,  as  a  child,  I,  had  been  affected 


2l8  LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER. 

f 

by  the  news  of  his  death,  —  giving  up  all  my 
plays,  and  going  off  to  a  lonely  hillside,  where  I 
spent  the  afternoon  thinking  of  him.  She 
interrupted  me,  before  I  had  quite  finished,  with 
a  quick,  impulsive  movement.  "  I  know  all  that," 

she  said  :  "  I  heard  it  all  from  Mrs. ;  and  it 

was  one  of  the  things  that  made  me  wish  to 
know  you.  I  think  you  could  understand  him." 
We  talked  for  some  time  of  him  then  ;  she,  with 
her  pale  face  slightly  flushed,  speaking,  as  any 
other  great  man's  widow  might,  only  of  what 
was  purest  and  best  in  his  works,  and  what 
were  his  undeniable  virtues  and  good  traits, 
especially  in  early  life.  She  told  me  many  pleas 
ant  little  speeches  made  by  him  to  herself ;  and, 
though  there  was  running  through  all  this  a 
shade  of  melancholy,  one  could  never  have  con 
jectured  that  there  were  under  all  any  deeper 
recollections  than  the  circumstances  of  an  ordi 
nary  separation  might  bring. 

Not  many  days   after,  with  the   unselfishness 
which  was  so  marked  a  trait  with  her,  she  chose 


LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER.  2 19 

a  day  when  she  could  be  out  of  her  room,  and 
invited  our  family  party,  consisting  of  my  hus 
band,  sister,  and  children,  to  lunch  with  her. 

What  showed  itself  especially  in  this  inter 
view  was  her  tenderness  for  all  young  people. 
She  had  often  inquired  after  mine  ;  asked  about 
their  characters,  habits,  and  tastes  ;  and  on  this 
occasion  she  found  an  opportunity  to  talk  with 
each  one  separately,  and  to  make  them  all  feel 
at  ease,  so  that  they  were  able  to  talk  with  her. 
She  seemed  interested  to  point  out  to  them  what 
they  should  see  and  study  in  London  ;  and  the 
charm  of  her  conversation  left  on  their  minds  an 
impression  that  subsequent  years  have  never 
effaced.  I  record  this  incident,  because  it  shows 
how  little  Lady  Byron  assumed  the  privileges 
or  had  the  character  of  an  invalid  absorbed  in 
herself,  and  likely  to  brood  over  her  own  woes 
and  wrongs. 

Here  was  a  family  of  strangers  stranded  in  a 
dull  season  in  London,  and  there  was  no  manner 
of  obligation  upon  her  to  exert  herself  to  show 


22O  LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER. 

them  attention.  Her  state  of  health  would  have 
been  an  all-sufficient  reason  why  she  should  not 
do  it ;  and  her  doing  it  was  simply  a  specimen 
of  that  unselfish  care  for  others,  even  down  to 
the  least  detail,  of  which  her  life  was  full. 

A  little  while  after,  at  her  request,  I  went, 
with  my  husband  and  son,  to  pass  an  evening  at 
her  house. 

There  were  a  few  persons  present  whom  she 
thought  I  should  be  interested  to  know,  —  a 
Miss  Goldsmith,  daughter  of  Baron  Goldsmith, 
and  Lord  Ockham,  her  grandson,  eldest  son  and 
heir  of  the  Earl  of  Lovelace,  to  whom  she  in 
troduced  my  son. 

I  had  heard  much  of  the  eccentricities  of  this 
young  nobleman,  and  was  exceedingly  struck 
with  his  personal  appearance.  His  bodily  frame 
was  of  the  order  of  the  Farnese  Hercules,  —  a 
wonderful  development  of  physical  and  muscu 
lar  strength.  His  hands  were  those  of  a  black 
smith.  He  was  broadly  and  squarely  made, 
with  a  finely-shaped  head,  and  dark  eyes  of 


LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER.  221 

surpassing  brilliancy.  I  have  seldom  seen  a 
more  interesting  combination  than  his  whole 
appearance  presented. 

When  all  were  engaged  in  talking,  Lady  Byron 
came  and  sat  down  by  me,  and  glancing  across 
to  Lord  Ockham  and  my  son,  who  were  talking 
together,  she  looked  at  me,  and  .smiled.  I 
immediately  expressed  my  admiration  of  his  fine 
eyes  and  the  intellectual  expression  of  his  coun 
tenance,  and  my  wonder  at  the  uncommon  mus 
cular  development  of  his  frame. 

She  said  that  that  of  itself  would  account  for 
many  of  Ockham's  eccentricities.  He  had  a 
body  that  required  a  more  vigorous  animal  life 
than  his  station  gave  scope  for,  and  this  had 
often  led  him  to  seek  it  in  what  the  world  calls 
low  society  ;  that  he  had  been  to  sea  as  a  sailor, 
and  was  now  working  as  a  mechanic  on  the  iron 
work  of  "  The  Great  Eastern."  He  had  laid 
aside  his  title,  and  went  in  daily  with  the  other 
workmen,  requesting  them  to  call  him  simply 
Ockham. 


222  LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER. 

I  said  that  there  was  something  to  my  mind 
very  fine  about  this,  even  though  it  might  show 
some  want  of  proper  balance. 

She  said  he  had  noble  traits,  and  that  she  felt 
assured-  he  would  yet  accomplish  something 
worthy  of  himself.  "  The  great  difficulty  with 
our  nobility  is  apt  to  be,  that  they  do  not 
understand  the  working-classes,  so  as  to  feel 
for  them  properly  ;  and  Ockham  is  now  going 
through  an  experience  which  may  yet  fit  him  to 
do  great  good  when  he  comes  to  the  peerage. 
I  am  trying  to  influence  him  to  do  good  among 
the  workmen,  and  to  interest  himself  in  schools 
for  their  children.  I  think,"  she  added,  "  I  have 
great  influence  over  Ockham,  —  the  greater,  per 
haps,  that  I  never  make  any  claim  to  authority." 

This  conversation  is  very  characteristic  of 
Lady  Byron,  as  showing  her  benevolent  analysis 
of  character,  and  the  peculiar  hopefulness  she 
always  had  in  regard  to  the  future  of  every  one 
brought  in  connection  with  her.  Her  moral 
hopefulness  was  something  very  singular  ;  and  in 


LADY   BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER.  223 

this  respect  she  was  so  different  from  the  rest 
of  the  world,  that  it  would  be  difficult  to  make 
her  understood.  Her  tolerance  of  wrong-doing 
would  have  seemed  to  many  quite  latitudinarian, 
and  impressed  them  as  if  she  had  lost  all  just 
horror  of  what  was  morally  wrong  in  transgres 
sion  ;  but  it  seemed  her  fixed  habit  to  see  faults 
only  as  diseases  and  immaturities,  and  to  expect 
them  to  fall  away  with  time. 

She  saw  the  germs  of  good  in  what  others 
regarded  as  only  evil.  She  expected  valuable 
results  to  come  from  what  the  world  looked  on 
only  as  eccentricities  ;  *  and  she  incessantly  de 
voted  herself  to  the  task  of  guarding  those  whom 
the  world  condemned,  and  guiding  them  to 
those  higher  results  of  which  she  often  thought 
that  even  their  faults  were  prophetic. 

Before  I  quit  this  sketch  of  Lady  Byron  as  I 
knew  her,  I  will  give  one  more  of  her  letters. 
My  return  from  that  visit  in  Europe  was  met  by 
the  sudden  death  of  the  son  mentioned  in  the 

*  See  her  character  of  Dr.  King,  Part  III.,  p.  469. 


224  LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER. 

foregoing  account.  At  the  time  of  this  sorrow, 
Lady  Byron  was  too  unwell  to  write  to  me. 
The  letter  given  alludes  to  this  event,  and 
speaks  also  of  two  colored  persons  of  remarka 
ble  talent,  in  whose  career  in  England  she  had 
taken  a  deep  interest.  One  of  them  is  the 
"  friend  "  she  speaks  of. 

"LONDON,  Feb.  6,  1859. 

"DEAR  MRS.  STOWE,  —  I  seem  to  feel  our  friend  as  a 
bridge,  over  which  our  broken  outward  communication  can  be 
renewed  without  effort.  Why  broken  ?  The  words  I  would 
have  uttered  at  one  time  were  like  drops  of  blood  from  my 
heart.  Now  I  sympathize  with  the  calmness  you  have  gained, 
and  can  speak  of  your  loss  as  I  do  of  my  own.  Loss  and  resto 
ration  are  more  and  more  linked  in  my  mind,  but  '  to  the  pres 
ent  live.'  As  long  as  they  are  in  God's  world,  they  are  in  ours. 
I  ask  no  other  consolation. 

"  Mrs.  W 's  recovery  has  astonished  me,  and  her  hus 
band's  prospects  give  me  great  satisfaction.  They  have  achieved 
a  benefit  to  their  colored  people.  She  had  a  mission  which  her 
burning  soul  has  worked  out,  almost  in  defiance  of  death.  But 
who  is  'called'  without  being  ' crucified,'  man  or  woman  ?  I 
know  of  none. 

"I  fear  that  H.  Martineau  was  too  sanguine  in  her  persuasion 
that  the  slave-power  had  received  a  serious  check  from  the  ruin 


LADY   BYRON   AS    I    KNEW    HER.  225 

of  so  many  of  your  Mammon-worshippers.  With  the  return 
of  commercial  facilities,  that  article  of  commerce  will  again 
find  purchasers  enough  to  raise  its  value.  Not  that  way  is  the 
iniquity  to  be  overthrown.  A  deeper  moral  earthquake  is 
needed.*  We  English  had  ours  in  India ;  and  though  the 
cases  are  far  from  being  alike,  yet  a  consciousness  of  what  we 
ought  to  have  been  and  ought  to  be  toward  the  natives  could 
not  have  been  awakened  by  less  than  the  reddened  waters  of 
the  Ganges.  So  I  fear  you  will  have  to  look  on  a  day  of  judg 
ment  worse  than  has  been  painted. 

"  As  to  all  the  frauds  and  impositions  which  have  been  dis 
closed  by  the  failures,  what  a  want  of  the  sense  of  personal 
responsibility  they  show.  It  seems  to  be  thought  that  'asso 
ciation  '  will  '  cover  a  multitude  of  sins  ; '  as  if  '  and  Co.'  could 
enter  heaven.  A  firm  may  be  described  as  a  partnership 
for  lowering  the  standard  of  morals.  Even  ecclesiastical  bodies 
are  not  free  from  the  'and  Co. ;'  very  different  from  '  the  goodly 
fellowship  of  the  apostles.' 

"  The  better  class  of  young  gentlemen  in  England  are  seized 
with  a  mediaeval  mania,  to  which  Ruskin  has  contributed  much. 
The  chief  reason  for  regretting  it  is  that  taste  is  made  to  super 
sede  benevolence.  The  money  that  would  save  thousands  from 
perishing  or  suffering  must  be  applied  to  raise  the  Gothic  edifice 
where  their  last  prayer  may  be  uttered.  Charity  may  be  dead, 
while  Art  has  glorified  her.  This  is  worse  than  Catholicism, 


Alluding  to  the  financial  crisis  in  the  United  States  in  1857. 


226  LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER. 

which  cultivates  heart  and  eye  together.  The  first  cathedral 
was  Truth,  at  the  beginning  of  the  fourth  century,  just  as 
Christianity  was  exchanging  a  heavenly  for  an  earthly  crown. 
True  religion  may  have  to  cast  away  the  symbol  for  the  spirit 
before  '  the  kingdom  '  can  come. 

"  While  I  am  speculating  to  little  purpose,  perhaps  you  are 
doing — what?  Might  not  a  biography  from  your  pen  bring 
forth  again  some  great,  half-obscured  soul  to  act  on  the  world  ? 
Even  Sir  Philip  Sidney  ought  to  be  superseded  by  a  still  nobler 
type. 

"  This  must  go  immediately,  to  be  in  time  for  the  bearer,  of 
whose  meeting  with  you  I  shall  think  as  the  friend  of  both. 
May  it  be  happy  ! 

"  Your  affectionate  "  A.  I.  N.  B." 

One  letter  more  from  Lady  Byron  I  give,  — 
the  last  I  received  from  her :  — 

"  LONDON,  May  3,  1859. 

"DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  have  found,  particularly  as  to  your 
self,  that,  if  I  did  not  answer  from  the  first  impulse,  all  had 
evaporated.  Your  letter  came  by '  The  Niagara,'  which  brought 
Fanny  Kemble  to  learn  the  loss  of  her  best  friend,  the  Miss 
F whom  you  saw  at  my  house. 

"  Her  death,  after  an  illness  in  which  she  was  to  the  last  a 
minister  of  good  to  others,  is  a  soul-loss  to  me  also  ;  and  your 
remarks  are  most  appropriate  to  my  feelings.  I  have  been 


LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER.  22/ 

taught,  however,  to  accept  survivorship  ;  even  to  feel  it,  in  some 
cases,  Heaven's  best  blessing. 

"  I  have  an  intense  interest  in  your  new  novel.*  More 
power  in  these  few  numbers  than  in  any  of  your  former  writ 
ings,  relating,  at  least,  to  my  own  mind.  It  would  amuse  you 
to  hear  my  grand-daughter  and  myself  attempting  to  foresee  the 
future  of  the  love-story ;  being,  for  the  moment,  quite  persuaded 
that  James  is  at  sea,  and  the  minister  about  to  ruin  himself. 
We  think  that  Mary  will  labor  to  be  in  love  with  the  self-devot 
ed  man,  under  her  mother's  influence,  and  from  that  hyper- 
conscientiousness  so  common  with  good  girls  ;  but  we  don't 
wish  her  to  succeed.  Then  what  is  to  become  of  her  older 
lover  ?  Time  will  show. 

"  The  lady  you  desired  to  introduce  to  me  will  be  welcomed 
as  of  you.  She  has  been  misled  with  respect  to  my  having 
any  house  in  Yorkshire  (New  Leeds).  I  am  in  London  now 

to  be  of  a  little  use  to  A ;  not  ostensibly,  for  I  can  neither 

go  out,  nor  give  parties  :  but  I  am  the  confidential  friend  to 
whom  she  likes  to  bring  her  social  gatherings,  as  she  can  see 
something  of  the  world  with  others.  Age  and  infirmity  seem 
to  be  overlooked  in  what  she  calls  the  harmony  between  us,  — 
not  perfect  agreement  of  opinion  (which  I  should  regret,  with 
almost  fifty  years  of  difference),  but  the  spirit-union:  can  you 
say  what  it  is  ? 

"  I  am  interrupted  by  a  note  from  Mrs.  K .     She  says 

*  The  Minister's  Wooing,  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly. 


228  LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER. 

that  she  cannot  write  of  our  lost  friend  yet,  though  she  is  less 

sad  than  she  will  be.  Mrs.  F may  like  to  hear  of  her 

arrival,  should  you  be  in  communication  with  our  friend.  She 
is  the  type  of  youth  in  age. 

"  I  often  converse  with  Miss  S ,  a  judicious  friend  of  the 

W s,  about  what  is  likely  to  await  them.  She  would  not 

succeed  here  as  well  as  where  she  was  a  novelty.  The  charac 
ter  of  our  climate  this  year  has  been  injurious  to  the  respiratory 
organs  ;  but  I  hope  still  to  serve  them. 

"  I  have  just  missed  Dale  Owen,  with  whom  I  wished  to 
have  conversed  on  spiritualism.*  Harris  is  lecturing  here  on 
religion.  I  do  not  hear  him  praised. 

"  People  are  looking  for  helps  to  believe,  everywhere  but  in 
life, — in  music,  in  architecture,  in  antiquity,  in  ceremony; 
and  upon  all  these  is  written,  '  Thou  shalt  not  believe.'  At 
least,  if  this  be  faith,  happier  the  unbeliever.  I  am  willing  to 
see  through  that  materialism  ;  but,  if  I  am  to  rest  there,  I  would 
rend  the  veil. 

"JUNE  i. 

"  The  day  of  the  packet's  sailing.  I  shall  hope  to  be  visited 
by  you  here.  The  best  flowers  sent  me  have  been  placed  in 
your  little  vases,  giving  life  to  the  remembrance  of  you,  though 
not,  like  them,  to  pass  away. 

"  Ever  yours,  "  A.  I.  NOEL  BYRON." 

*  See  her  letter  on  spiritualistic  phenomena,  Part  III. 


LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER.  22Q 

Shortly  after,  I  was  in  England  again,  and  had 
one  more  opportunity  of  resuming  our  personal 
intercourse.  The  first  time  that  I  called  on  Lady 
Byron,  I  saw  her  in  one  of  those  periods  of  utter 
physical  exhaustion  to  which  she  was  subject  on 
account  of  the  constant  pressure  of  cares  beyond 
her  strength.  All  who  knew  her  will  testify, 
that,  in  a  state  of  health  which  would  lead  most 
persons  to  become  helpless  absorbents  of  ser 
vice  from  others,  she  was  assuming  burdens, 
and  making  outlays  of  her  vital  powers  in  acts 
of  love  and  service,  with  a  generosity  that  often 
reduced  her  to  utter  exhaustion.  But  none  who 
knew  or  loved  her  ever  misinterpreted  the  cold 
ness  of  those  seasons  of  exhaustion.  We  knew 
that  it  was  not  the  spirit  that  was  chilled,  but 
only  the  frail  mortal  tabernacle.  When  I 
called  on  her  at  this  time,  she  could  not  see 
me  at  first ;  and  when,  at  last,  she  came,  it 
was  evident  that  she  was  in  a  state  of  utter 
prostration.  Her  hands  were  like  ice  ;  her  face 
was  deadly  pale ;  and  she  conversed  with  a 


230  LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER. 

restraint  and  difficulty  which  showed  what  ex 
ertion  it  was  for  her  to  keep  up  at  all.  I  left  as 
soon  as  possible,  with  an  appointment  for  another 
interview.  That  interview  was  my  last  on  earth 
with  her,  and  is  still  beautiful  in  memory.  It 
was  a  long,  still  summer  afternoon,  spent  alone 
with  her  in  a  garden,  where  we  walked  together. 
She  was  enjoying  one  of  those  bright  intervals 
of  freedom  from  pain  and  languor,  in  which  her 
spirits  always  rose  so  buoyant  and  youthful ;  and 
her  eye  brightened,  and  her  step  became  elastic. 

One  last  little  incident  is  cherished  as  most 
expressive  of  her.  When  it  became  time  for  me 
to  leave,  she  took  me  in  her  carriage  to  the 
station.  As  we  were  almost  there,  I  missed  my 
gloves,  and  said,  "  I  must  have  left  them  ;  but 
there  is  not  time  to  go  back." 

With  one  of  those  quick,  impulsive  motions 
which  were  so  natural  to  her  in  doing  a  kind 
ness,  she  drew  off  her  own,  and  said,  "  Take 
mine  if  they  will  serve  you."  - 


LADY    BYRON    AS    I    KNEW    HER.  2$  I 

I  hesitated  a  moment ;  and  then  the  thought, 
that  I  might  never  see  her  again,  came  over  me, 
and  I  said,  "  Oh,  yes !  thanks."  That  was  the 
last  earthly  word  of  love  between  us.  But, 
thank  God,  those  who  love  worthily  never  meet 
for  the  last  time  :  there  is  always  a  future. 


CHAPTER   II. 


T  NOW  come  to. the  particulars  of  that  most 
painful  interview  which  has  been  the  cause 
of  all  this  controversy.  My  sister  and  myself 
were  going  from  London  to  Eversley  to  visit  the 
Rev.  C.  Kingsley.  On  our  way,  we  stopped,  by 
Lady  Byron's  invitation,  to  lunch  with  her  at 
her  summer  residence  on  Ham  Common,  near 
Richmond  ;  and  it  was  then  arranged,  that  on 
our  return,  we  should  make  her  a  short  visit,  as 
she  said  she  had  a  subject  of  importance  on 
which  she  wished  to  converse  with  me  alone. 

On  our  return  from  Eversley,  we  arrived  at 
her  house  in  the  morning. 

It  appeared   to   be  one  of  Lady  Byron's  well 

days.      She  was   up   and   dressed,  and   moved 
232 


LADY  BYRON  S  STORY  AS  TOLD  ME.    233 

about  her  house  with  her  usual  air  of  quiet  sim 
plicity  ;  as  full  of  little  acts  of  consideration  for 
all  about  her  as  if  they  were  the  habitual  inva 
lids,  and  she  the  well  person. 

There  were  with  her  two  ladies  of  her  most 
intimate  friends,  by  whom  she  seemed  to  be  re 
garded  with  a  sort  of  worship.  When  she  left 
the  room  for  a  moment,  they  looked  after  her 
with  a  singular  expression  of  respect  and  affec 
tion,  and  expressed  freely  their  admiration  of  her 
character,  and  their  fears  that  her  unselfishness 
might  be  leading  her  to  over-exertion. 

After  lunch,  I  retired  with  Lady  Byron  ;  and 
my  sister  remained  with  her  friends.  I  should 
here  remark,  that  the  chief  subject  of  the  con 
versation  which  ensued  was  not  entirely  new  to 
me.  In  the  interval  between  my  first  and  second 
visits  to  England,  a  lady  who  for  many  years  had 
enjoyed  Lady  Byron's  friendship  and  confidence, 
had,  with  her  consent,  stated  the  case  generally 
to  me,  giving  some  of  the  incidents  :  so  that  I 
was  in  a  manner  prepared  for  what  followed. 


234   LADY  BYRON  S  STORY  AS  TOLD  ME. 

Those  who  accifse  Lady  Byron  of  being  a  per 
son  fond  of  talking  upon  this  subject,  and  apt  to 
make  unconsidered  confidences,  can  have  known 
very  little  of  her,  of  her  reserve,  and  of  the 
apparent  difficulty  she  had  in  speaking  on  sub 
jects  nearest  her  heart. 

Her  habitual  calmness  and  composure  of  man 
ner,  her  collected  dignity  on  all  occasions,  are 
often  mentioned  by  her  husband,  sometimes  with 
bitterness,  sometimes  with  admiration.  He  says, 
"  Though  I  accuse  Lady  Byron  of  an  excess  of 
self-respect,  I  must  in  candor  admit,  that,  if  ever 
a  person  had  excuse  for  an  extraordinary  portion 
of  it,  she  has  ;  as,  in  all  her  thoughts,  words,  and 
deeds,  she  is  the  most  decorous  woman  that  ever 
existed,  and  must  appear,  what  few  I  fancy  could, 
a  perfectly  refined  gentlewoman  even  to  her 
femme  de  chambre^ 

This  calmness  and  dignity  were  never  more 
manifested  than  in  this  interview.  In  recalling 
the  conversation  at  this  distance  of  time,  I  can 
not  remember  all  the  language  used.  Some 


LADY  BYRON'S  STORY  AS  TOLD  ME.      235 

particular  words  and  forms  of  expression  I  do 
remember,  and  those  I  give  ;  and  in  other  cases 
I  give  mytrecollection  of  the  substance  of  what 
was  said. 

There  was  something  awful  to  me  in  the  in 
tensity  of  repressed  emotion  which  she  showed 
as  she  proceeded.  The  great  fact  upon  which 
all  turned  was  stated  in  words  that  were  unmis 
takable  :  — 

"  Mrs.  Stowe,  he  was  guilty  of  incest  with  his 
sister  !  " 

She  here  became  so  deathly  pale,  that  I 
feared  she  would  faint ;  and  hastened  to  say, 
"  My  dear  friend,  I  have  heard  that."  She  asked 
quickly,  "  From  whom  ?  "  and  I  answered,  "  From 

Mrs. ;  "  when  she  replied,  "  Oh,  yes  !  "  as 

if  recollecting  herself. 

I  then  asked  her  some  questions  ;  in  reply  to 
which  she  said,  "  I  will  tell  you." 

She  then  spoke  of  her  first  acquaintance  with 
Lord  Byron  ;  from  which  I  gathered  that  she,  an 
only  child,  brought  up  in  retirement,  and  living 


236      LADY  BYRON'S  STORY  AS  TOLD  ME. 

much  within  herself,  had  been,  as  deep  natures 
often  were,  intensely  stirred  by  his  poetry  ;  and 
had  felt  a  deep  interest  in  him  personally,  as  one 
that  had  the  germs  of  all  that  is  glorious  and 
noble. 

When  she  was  introduced  to  him,  and  per 
ceived  his  admiration  of  herself,  and  at  last 
received  his  offer,  although  deeply  moved,  she 
doubted  her  own  power  to  be  to  him  all  that  a 
wife  should  be.  She  declined  his  offer,  there 
fore,  but  desired  to  retain  still  his  friendship. 
After  this,  as  she  said,  a  correspondence  ensued, 
mostly  on  moral  and  literary  subjects  ;  and,  by 
this  correspondence,  her  interest  in  him  was 
constantly  increased. 

At  last,  she  said,  he  sent  her  a  very  beautiful 
letter,  offering  himself  again.  "  I  thought,"  she 
added,  "that  it  was  sincere,  and  that  I  might 
now  show  him  all  I  felt.  I  wrote  just  what  was 
in  my  heart. 

"  Afterwards,"  she  said,  "  I  found  in  one  of 
his  journals  this  notice  of  my  letter  :  '  A  letter 
from  Bell,  —  never  rains  but  it  pours.' " 


LADY  BYRON'S  STORY  AS  TOLD  ME.      237 

There  was  through  her  habitual  calm  a  shade 
•  of  womanly  indignation  as  she  spoke  these 
words  ;  but  it  was  gone  in  a  moment.  I  said, 
"  And  did  he  not  love  you,  then  ?  "  She  an 
swered,  "  No,  my  dear :  he  did  not  love  me." 

"  Why,  then,  did  he  wish  to  marry  you  ?  " 
She  laid  her  hand  on  mine,  and  said  in  a  low 
voice,  "  You  will  see." 

She  then  told  me,  that,  shortly  after  the  de 
clared  engagement,  he  came  to  her  father's 
house  to  visit  her  as  an  accepted  suitor.  The 
visit  was  to  her  full  of  disappointment.  His 
appearance  was  so  strange,  moody,  and  unac 
countable,  and  his  treatment  of  her  so  peculiar, 
that  she  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  did  not 
love  her,  and  sought  an  opportunity  to  converse 
with  him  alone. 

She  told  him  that  she  saw  from  his  manner 
that  their  engagement  did  not  give  him  pleasure ; 
that  she  should  never  blame  him  if  he  wished  to 
dissolve  it ;  that  his  nature  was  exceptional ;  and 
if,  on  a  nearer  view  of  the  situation,  he  shrank 


238      LADY  BYRON'S  STORY  AS  TOLD  ME. 

from  it,  she  would  release  him,  and  remain  no 
less  than  ever  his  friend. 

Upon  this,  she  said,  he  fainted  entirely  away. 

She  stopped  a  moment,  and  then,  as  if  speak 
ing  with  great  effort,  added,  "  Then  I  was  sure 
he  must  love  me." 

"And  did  he  not?"  said  I.  "What  other 
cause  could  have  led  to  this  emotion  ? " 

She  looked  at  me  very  sadly,  and  said,  "  Fear 
of  detection'' 

"  What ! "  said  I,  "  did  that  cause  then  exist  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  said,  "it  did."  And  she  explained 
that  she  now  attributed  Lord  Byron's  great 
agitation  to  fear,  that,  in  some  way,  suspicion 
of  the  crime  had  been  aroused  in  her  mind, 
and  that  on  this  account  she  was  seeking  to 
break  the  engagement.  She  said,  that,  from 
that  moment,  her  sympathies  were  aroused  for 
him,  to  soothe  the  remorse  and  anguish  which 
seemed  preying  on  his  mind,  and  which  she 
then  regarded  as  the  sensibility  of  an  unusually 
exacting  moral  nature,  which  judged  itself  by 


LADY  BYRON  S  STORY  AS  TOLD  ME.    239 

higher  standards,  and  condemned  itself  unspar 
ingly  for  what  most  young  men  of  his  times 
regarded  as  venial  faults.  She  had  every  hope 
for  his  future,  and  all  the  enthusiasm  of  belief 
that  so  many  men  and  women  of  those  times 
and  ours  have  had  in  his  intrinsic  nobleness. 
She  said  the  gloom,  however,  seemed  to  be  even 
deeper  when  he  came  to  the  marriage  ;  but  she 
looked  at  it  as  the  suffering  of  a  peculiar  being, 
to  whom  she  was  called  to  minister.  I  said  to 
her,  that,  even  in  the  days  of  my  childhood,  I 
had  heard  of  something  very  painful  that  had 
passed  as  they  were  in  the  carriage,  immediately 
after  marriage.  She  then  said  that  it  was  so ; 
that  almost  his  first  words,  when  they  were 
alone,  were,  that  she  might  once  have  saved 
him  ;  that,  if  she  had  accepted  him  when  he 
first  offered,  she  might  have  made  him  any  thing 
she  pleased  ;  but  that,  as  it  was,  she  would  find 
she  had  married  a  devil. 

The  conversation,  as  recorded  in  Lady  Anne 
Barnard's  Diary,  seems  only  a  continuation  of 


240   LADY  BYRON  S  STORY  AS  TOLD  ME. 

the  foregoing,  and  just  what  might  have  followed 
upon  it. 

I  then  asked  how  she  became  certain  of  the 
true  cause. 

She  said,  that,  from  the  outset  of  their  married 
life,  his  conduct  towards  her  was  strange  and 
unaccountable,  even  during  the  first  weeks  after 
the  wedding,  while  they  were  visiting  her  friends, 
and  outwardly  on  good  terms.  He  seemed 
resolved  to  shake  and  combat  both  her  religious 
principles  and  her  views  of  the  family  state.  He 
tried  to  undermine  her  faith  in  Christianity  as  a 
rule  of  life  by  argument  and  by  ridicule.  He 
set  before  her  the  Continental  idea  of  the  liberty 
of  marriage  ;  it  being  a  simple  partnership  of 
friendship  and  property,  the  parties  to  which 
were  allowed  by  one  another  to  pursue  their  own 
separate  individual  tastes.  He  told  her,  that,  as 
he  could  not  be  expected  to  confine  himself  to 
her,  neither  should  he  expect  or  wish-  that  she 
should  confine  herself  to  him  ;  that  she  was 
young  and  pretty,  and  could  have  her  lovers, 


LADY    BYRON  S    STORY    AS    TOLD    ME.        24! 

and  he  should  never  object ;  and  that  she  must 
allow  him  the  same  freedom. 

She  said  that  she  did  not  comprehend  to  what 
this  was.  tending  till  after  they  came  to  London, 
and  his  sister  came  to  stay  with  them. 

At  what  precise  time  the  idea  of  an  improper 
connection  between  her  husband  and  his  sister 
was  first  forced  upon  her,  she  did  not  say  ;  but 
she  told  me  how  it  was  done.  She  said  that  one 
night,  in  her  presence,  he  treated  his  sister  with 
a  liberty  which  both  shocked  and  astonished  her. 
Seeing  her  amazement  and  alarm,  he  came  up 
to  her,  and  said,  in  a  sneering  tone,  "  I  suppose 
you  perceive  you  are  not  wanted  here.  Go  to 
your  own  room,  and  leave  us  alone.  We  can 
amuse  ourselves  better  without  you." 

She  said,  "  I  went  to  my  room,  trembling.  I 
fell  down  on  my  knees,  and  prayed  to  my  heav 
enly  Father  to  have  mercy  on  them.  I  thought, 
'  What  shall  I  do  ? '  " 

I  remember,  after  this,  a  pause  in  the  conver 
sation,  during  which  she  seemed  struggling  with 


242      LADY  BYRON'S  STORY  AS  TOLD  ME. 

thoughts  and  emotions  ;  and,  for  my  part,  I  was 
unable  to  utter  a  word,  or  ask  a  question. 

She  did  not  tell  me  what  followed  immediately 
upon  this,  nor  how  soon  after  she  spoke  on  the 
subject  with  either  of  the  parties.  She  first 
began  to  speak  of  conversations  afterward  held 
with  Lord  Byron,  in  which  he  boldly  avowred  the 
connection  as  having  existed  in  time  past,  and 
as  one  that  was  to  continue  in  time  to  come  ; 
and  implied  that  she  must  submit  to  it.  She 
put  it  to  his  conscience  as  concerning  his  sister's 
soul,  and  he  said  that  it  was  no  sin  ;  that  it  was 
the  way  the  world  was  first  peopled  :  the  Scrip 
tures  taught  that  all  the  world  descended  from 
one  pair  ;  and  how  could  that  be  unless  brothers 
married  their  sisters  ?  that,  if  not  a  sin  then,  it 
could  not  be  a  sin  now. 

I  immediately  said,  "  Why,  Lady  Byron,  those 
are  the  very  arguments  given  in  the  drama  of 
'  Cain.'  " 

"  The  very  same,"  was  her  reply.  "  He  could 
reason  very  speciously  on  this  subject."  She 


LADY  BYRON'S  STORY  AS  TOLD  ME.      243 

went  on  to  say,  that,  when  she  pressed  him  hard 
with  the  universal  sentiment  of  mankind  as  to 
the  horror  and  the  crime,  he  took  another  turn, 
and  said  that  the  horror  and  crime  were  the  very 
attraction  ;  that  he  had  worn  out  all  ordinary 
forms  of  sin,  and  that  he  "  longed  for  the  stimu 
lus  of  a  new  kind  of  vice''  She  set  before  him 
the  dread  of  detection  ;  and  then  he  became 
furious.  She  should  never  be  the  means  of  his 
detection,  he  said.  She  should  leave  him  ;  that 
he  was  resolved  upon  :  but  she  should  always 
bear  all  the  blame  of  the  separation.  In  the 
sneering  tone  which  was  common  with  him,  he 
said,  "  The  world  will  believe  me,  and  it  will  not 
believe  you.  The  world  has  made  up  its  mind 
that  '  By '  is  a  glorious  boy  ;  and  the  world  will 
go  for  '  By,'  right  or  wrong.  Besides,  I  shall 
make  it  my  life's  object  to  discredit  you  :  I  shall 
use  all  my  powers.  Read  '  Caleb  Williams,'  * 
and  you  will  see  that  I  shall  do  by  you  just  as 
Falkland  did  by  Caleb." 

*  This  novel  of  Godwin's  is  a  remarkably  powerful  story.     It  is  related 
in  the  first  person  by  the  supposed  hero,  Caleb  Williams.     He  represents 


244    LADY  BYRON  S  STORY  AS  TOLD  ME. 

I  said  that  all  this  seemed  to  me  like  insanity. 
She  said  that  she  was  for  a  time  led  to  think 
that  it  was  insanity,  and  excused  and  pitied 
him  ;  that  his  treatment  of  her  expressed  such 
hatred  and  malignity,  that  she  knew  not  what 
else  to  think  of  it ;  that  he  seemed  resolved  to 
drive  her  out  of  the  house  at  all  hazards,  and 

himself  as  private  secretary  to  a  gentleman  of  high  family  named  Falkland. 
Caleb  accidentally  discovers  that  his  patron  has,  in  a  moment  of  passion, 
committed  a  murder.  Falkland  confesses  the  crime  to  Caleb,  and  tells  him 
that  henceforth  he  shall  always  suspect  him,  and  keep  watch  over  him. 
Caleb  finds  this  watchfulness  insupportable,  and  tries  to  escape,  but  without 
success.  He  writes  a  touching  letter  to  his  patron,  imploring  him  to  let  him 
go,  and  promising  never  to  betray  him.  The  scene  where  Falkland  refuses 
this  is  the  most  highly  wrought  in  the  book.  He  says  to  him,  "  Do  not  im- 
gine  that  I  am  afraid  of  you  !  I  wear  an  armor  against  which  all  your 
weapons  are  impotent.  I  have  dug  a  pit  for  you ;  and  whichever  way  you 
move,  backward  or  forward,  to  the  right  or  the  left,  it  is  ready  to  swallow  you. 
Be  still !  If  once  you  Fall,  call  as  loud  as  you  will,  no  man  on  earth  shall 
hear  your  cries  :  prepare  a  tale  however  plausible  or  however  true,  the  whole 
world  shall  execrate  you  for  an  impostor.  Your  innocence  shall  be  of  no  ser 
vice  to  you.  I  laugh  at  so  feeble  a  defence.  It  is  I  that  say  it  :  you  may 
believe  what  I  tell  you.  Do  you  know,  miserable  wretch !  "  added  he, 
stamping  on  the  ground  with  fury,  "  that  I  have  sworn  to  preserve  my  repu 
tation,  whatever  be  the  expense  ;  that  I  love  it  more  than  the  whole  world 
and  its  inhabitants  taken  together?  and  do  you  think  that  you  shall  wound 
it? "  The  rest  of  the  book  shows  how  this  threat  was  executed. 


LADY  BYRON  S  STORY  AS  TOLD  ME.    245 

threatened  her,  if  she  should  remain,  in  a  way 
to  alarm  the  heart  of  any  woman  :  yet,  think 
ing  him  insane,  she  left  him  at  last  with  the 
sorrow  with  which  any  one  might  leave  a  dear 
friend  whose  reason  was  wholly  overthrown, 
and  to  whom  in  this  desolation  she  was  no 
longer  permitted  to  minister. 

i  inquired  in  one  of  the  pauses  of  the  con 
versation  whether  Mrs.  Leigh  was  a  peculiarly 
beautiful  or  attractive  woman. 

"  No,  my  dear :  she  was  plain." 

"  Was  she,  then,  distinguished  for  genius  or 
talent  of  any  kind  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  Poor  woman  !  she  was  weak,  rela 
tively,  to  him,  and  wholly  under  his  control." 

"  And  what  became  of  her  ? "  I  said. 

"  She  afterwards  repented,  and  became  a  truly 
good  woman."  I  think  it  was  here  she  men 
tioned  that  she  had  frequently  seen  and  con 
versed  with  Mrs.  Leigh  in  the  latter  part  of  her 
life  ;  and  she  seemed  to  derive  comfort  from  the 
recollection. 


246      LADY  BYRON'S  STORY  AS  TOLD  ME. 

I  asked,  "  Was  there  a  child  ? "  I  had  been 

told  by  Mrs. that  there  was  a  daughter, 

who  had  lived  some  years. 

She  said  there  was  one,  a  daughter,  who 
made  her  friends  much  trouble,  being  of  a  very 
difficult  nature  to  manage.  I  had  understood 
that  at  one  time  this  daughter  escaped  from  her 
friends  to  the  Continent,  and  that  Lady  Byron 
assisted  in  efforts  to  recover  her.  Of  Lady 
Byron's  kindness  both  to  Mrs.  Leigh  and  the 

child,  I  had  before  heard  from  Mrs.  ,  who 

gave  me  my  first  information. 

It  is  also  strongly  impressed  on  my  mind,  that 
Lady  Byron,  in  answer  to  some  question  of  mine 
as  to  whether  there  was  ever  any  meeting 
between  Lord  Byron  and  his  sister  after  he  left 
England,  answered,  that  she  had  insisted  upon 
it,  or  made  it  a  condition,  that  Mrs.  Leigh  should 
not  go  abroad  to  him. 

When  the  conversation  as  to  events  was  over, 
as  I  stood  musing,  I  said,  "  Have  you  no  evi 
dence  that  he  repented  ? "  and  alluded  to  the 


LADY  BYRON'S  STORY  AS  TOLD  ME.      247 

mystery  of  his  death,  and  the  message  he  en 
deavored  to  utter. 

She  answered  quickly,  and  with  great  decision, 
that,  whatever  might  have  been  his  meaning  at 
that  hour,  she  felt  sure  he  had  finally  repented  ; 
and  added  with  great  earnestness,  "  I  do  not 
believe  that  any  child  of  the  heavenly  Father  is 
ever  left  to  eternal  sin." 

I  said  that  such  a  hope  was  most  delightful  to 
my  feelings,  but  that  I  had  always  regarded  the 
indulgence  of  it  as  a  dangerous  one. 

Her  look,  voice,  and  manner,  at  that  moment, 
are  indelibly  fixed  in  my  mind.  She  looked  at 
me  so  sadly,  so  firmly,  and  said,  — 

"  Danger,  Mrs.  Stowe  !  What  danger  can 
come  from  indulging  that  hope,  like  the  danger 
that  comes  from  not  having  it  ? " 

I  said  in  my  turn,  "  What  danger  comes  from 
not  having  it  ?  " 

"  The  danger  of  losing  all  faith  in  God,"  she 
said,  "  all  hope  for  others,  all  strength  to  try  and 
save  them.  I  once  knew  a  lady,"  she  added, 


248      LADY  BYRON'S  STORY  AS  TOLD  ME. 

"who  was  in  a  state  of  scepticism  and  despair 
from  belief  in  that  doctrine.  I  think  I  saved 
her  by  giving  her  my  faith." 

I  was  silent ;  and  she  continued  :  "  Lord  Byron 
believed  in  eternal  punishment  fully :  for,  though 
he  reasoned  against  Christianity  as  it  is  com 
monly  received,  he  could  not  reason  himself  out 
of  it ;  and  I  think  it  made  him  desperate.  He 
used  to  say,  'The  worst  of  it  is,  I  do  believe/ 
Had  he  seen  God  as  I  see  him,  I  am  sure  his 
heart  would  have  relented." 

She  went  on  to  say,  that  his  sins,  great  as  they 
were,  admitted  of  much  palliation  and  excuse  ; 
that  he  was  the  child  of  singular  and  ill-matched 
parents  ;  that  he  had  an  organization  originally 
fine,  but  one  capable  equally  of  great  good  or 
great  evil ;  that  in  his  childhood  he  had  only  the 
worst  and  most  fatal  influences  ;  that  he  grew 
up  into  manhood  with  no  guide  ;  that  there  was 
every  thing  in  the  classical  course  of  the  schools 
to  develop  an  unhealthy  growth  of  passion,  and 
no  moral  influence  of  any  kind  to  restrain  it ; 


LADY  BYRON S  STORY  AS  TOLD  ME.    249 

that  the  manners  of  his  day  were  corrupt  ;  that 
what  were  now  considered  vices  in  society  were 
then  spoken  of  as  matters  of  course  among 
young  noblemen  ;  that  drinking,  gaming,  and 
licentiousness  everywhere  abounded ;  and  that, 
up  to  a  certain  time,  he  was  no  worse  than  mul 
titudes  of  other  young  men  of  his  day,  —  only 
that  the  vices  of  his  day  were  worse  for  him. 
The  excesses  of  passion,  the  disregard  of 
physical  laws  in  eating,  drinking,  and  living, 
wrought  effects  on  him  that  they  did  not  on  less 
sensitively  organized  frames,  and  prepared  him 
for  the  evil  hour  when  he  fell  into  the  sin  which 
shaded  his  whole  life.  All  the  rest  was  a  strug 
gle  with  its  consequences,  —  sinning  more  and 
more  to  conceal  the  sin  of  the  past.  But  she  be 
lieved  he  never  outlived  remorse;  that  he  al 
ways  suffered  ;  and  that  this  showed  that  God  had 
not  utterly  forsaken  him.  Remorse,  she  said, 
always  showed  moral  sensibility ;  and,  while  that 
remained,  there  was  always  hope. 

She  now  began  to  speak  of  her  grounds  for 


250   LADY  BYRON'S  STORY  AS  TOLD  ME. 

thinking  it  might  be-  her  duty  fully  to  publish 
this  story  before  she  left  the  world. 

First  she  said,  that,  through  the  whole  course 
of  her  life,  she  had  felt  the  eternal  value  of  truth, 
and  seen  how  dreadful  a  thing  was  falsehood, 
and  how  fearful  it  was  to  be  an  accomplice  in  it, 
even  by  silence.  Lord  Byron  had  demoralized 
the  moral  sense  of  England,  and  he  had  done  it 
in  a  great  degree  by  the  sympathy  excited  by 
falsehood.  This  had  been  pleaded  in  extenua 
tion  of  all  his  crimes  and  vices,  and  led  to  a  low 
ering  of  the  standard  of  morals  in  the  literary 
world.  Now  it  was  proposed  to  print  cheap  edi 
tions  of  his  works,  and  sell  them  among  the  com 
mon  people,  and  interest  them  in  him  by  the 
circulation  of  this  same  story. 

She  then  said  to  this  effect,  that  she  believed 
in  retribution  and  suffering  in  the  future  life,  and 
that  the  consequences  of  sins  here  follow  us  there ; 
and  it  was  strongly  impressed  upon  her  mind 
that  Lord  Byron  must  suffer  in  looking  on  the 
evil  consequences  of  what  he  had  done  in  this 


251 

life,  and  in  seeing  the  further  extension  of  that 
evil. 

"  It  has  sometimes  strongly  appeared  to  me," 
she  said,  "  that  he  cannot  be  at  peace  until  this 
injustice  has  been  righted.  Such  is  the  strong 

feeling  that  I  have  when  I  think  of  going  where 

-w 
he  is." 

These  things,  she  said,  had  led  her  to  inquire 
whether  it  might  not  be  her  duty  to  make  a 
full  and  clear  disclosure  before  she  left  the 
world. 

Of  course,  I  did  not  listen  to  this  story  as  one 
who  was  investigating  its  worth.  I  received  it 
as  truth.  And  the  purpose  for  which  it  was 
communicated  was  not  to  enable  me  to  prove  it 
to  the  world,  but  to  ask  my  opinion  whether 
she  should  show  it  to  the  world  before  leaving  it. 
The  whole  consultation  was  upon  the  assumption 
that  she  had  at  her  command  such  proofs  as 
could  not  be  questioned. 

Concerning  what  they  were  I  did  not  minutely 
inquire :  only,  in  answer  to  a  general  question, 


252    LADY  BYRON  S  STORY  AS  TOLD  ME. 

she  said  that  she  had  letters  and  documents  in 
proof  of  her  story.  Knowing  Lady  Byron's 
strength  of  mind,  her  clear-headedness,  her  ac 
curate  habits,  and  her  perfect  knowledge  of  the 
matter,  I  considered  her  judgment  on  this  point 
decisive. 

I  told  her  that  I  would  take  the  subject  into 
consideration,  and  give  my  opinion  in  a  few  days. 
That  night,  after  my  sister  and  myself  had  re 
tired  to  our  own  apartment,  I  related  to  her  the 
whole  history,  and  we  spent  the  night  in  talking 
of  it.  I  was  powerfully  impressed  with  the  jus 
tice  and  propriety  of  an  immediate  disclosure ; 
while  she,  on  the  contrary,  represented  the 
painful  consequences  that  would  probably  come 
upon  Lady  Byron  from  taking  such  a  step. 

Before  we  parted  the  next  day,  I  requested 
Lady  Byron  to  give  me  some  memoranda  of  such 
dates  and  outlines  of  the  general  story  as  would 
enable  me  better  to  keep  it  in  its  connection  ; 
which  she  did. 

On  giving  me  the  paper,  Lady  Byron  requested 


LADY    BYRON  S    STORY    AS    TOLD    ME.        253 

me  to  return  it  to  her  when  it  had  ceased  to  be 
of  use  to  me  for  the  purpose  indicated. 

Accordingly,  a  day  or  two  after,  I  enclosed  it 
to  her  in  a  hasty  note,  as  I  was  then  leaving 
London  for  Paris,  and  had  not  yet  had  time 
fully  to  consider  the  subject. 

On  reviewing  my  note,  I  can  recall  that  then 
the  whole  history  appeared  to  me  like  one  of 
those  singular  cases  where  unnatural  impulses  to 
vice  are  the  result  of  a  taint  of  constitutional  in 
sanity.  This  has  always  seemed  to  me  the  only 
way  of  accounting  for  instances  of  utterly  mo 
tiveless  and  abnormal  wickedness  and  cruelty. 
These  my  first  impressions  were  expressed  in 
the  hasty  note  written  at  the  time :  — 

"  LONDON,  Nov.  5,  1856. 

"  DEAREST  FRIEND,  —  I  return  these.  They  have  held 
mine  eyes  waking !  How  strange  !  how  unaccountable  !  Have 
you  ever  subjected  the  facts  to  the  judgment  of  a  medical  man 
learned  in  nervous  pathology  ? 

"  Is  it  not  insanity  ? 

'  Great  wits  to  madness  nearly  are  allied, 
And  thin  partitions  do  their  bounds  divide.' 


254   LADY  BYRON  S  STORY  A3  TOLD  ME. 

"  But  my  purpose  to-night  is  not  to  write  you  fully  what  I 
think  of  this  matter.  I  am  going  to  write  to  you  from  Paris 
more  at  leisure." 

The  rest  of  the  letter  was  taken  up  in  the 
final  details  of  a  charity  in  which  Lady  Byron 
had  been  engaged  with  me  in  assisting  an  un 
fortunate  artist.  It  concludes  thus  :  — 

"  I  write  now  in  all  haste,  en  route  for  Paris.  As  to  America, 
all  is  not  lost  yet.*  Farewell  !  I  love  you,  my  dear  friend,  as 
never  before,  with  an  intense  feeling  I  cannot  easily  express. 
God  bless  you  !  "  H.  B.  S." 

The  next  letter  is  as  follows  :  — 

"  PARIS,  Dec.  17,  1856. 

"  DEAR  LADY  BYRON,  —  The  Kansas  Committee  have  written 

me  a  letter  desiring  me  to  express  to  Miss  their  gratitude 

for  the  five  pounds  she  sent  them.  I  am  not  personally  ac 
quainted  with  her,  and  must  return  these  acknowledgments 
through  you. 

"  I  wrote  you  a  day  or  two  since,  enclosing  the  reply  of  the 
Kansas  Committee  to  you. 

"  On  that  subject  on  which  you  spoke  to  me  the  last  time  we 
were  together,  I  have  thought  often  and  deeply. 

*  Alluding  to  Buchanan's  election. 


LADY  BYRON'S  STORY  AS  TOLD  ME.   255 

"  I  have  changed  my  mind  somewhat. 

"Considering  the  peculiar  circumstances  of  the  case,  I  could 
wish  that  the  sacred  veil  of  silence,  so  bravely  thrown  over  the 
past,  should  never  be  withdrawn  during  the  time  that  you  remain 
with  us. 

"  I  would  say,  then,  Leave  all  with  some  discreet  friends,  who, 
after  both  have  passed  from  earth,  shall  say  what  was  due  to 
justice. 

"  I  am  led  to  think  this  by  seeing  how  low,  how  unjust,  how 
unworthy,  the  judgments  of  this  world  are  ;  and  I  would  not 
that  what  I  so  much  respect,  love,  and  revere,  should  be  placed 
within  reach  of  its  harpy  claw,  which  pollutes  what  it  touches. 

"The  day  will  yet  come  which  will  bring  to  light  every 
hidden  thing.  '  There  is  nothing  covered  that  shall  not  be 
revealed,  neither  hid  that  shall  not  be  known ; '  and  so  justice 
•will  not  fail. 

"  Such,  my  dear  friend,  are  my  thoughts  ;  different  from  what 
they  were  since  first  I  heard  that  strange,  sad  history.  Mean 
while,  I  love  you  ever,  whether  we  meet  again  on  earth  or  not. 

"  Affectionately  yours,  "  H.  B.  S." 

The  following  letter  will  here  be  inserted  as 
confirming  a  part  of  Lady  Byron's  story  :  — 

To  THE  EDITOR  OF  "MACMILLAN'S  MAGAZINE." 
"  SIR,  —  1  trust  that  you  will  hold  me  excused  from  any 
desire  to  be  troublesome,  or  to  rush  into  print.     Both  these 


256   LADY  BYRON'S  STORY  AS  TOLD  ME. 

things  are  far  from  my  wish.  But  the  publication  of  a  book 
having  for  its  object  the  vindication  of  Lord  Byron's  character, 
and  the  subsequent  appearance  in  your  magazine  of  Mrs. 
Stowe's  article  in  defence  of  Lady  Byron,  having  led  to  so  much 
controversy  in  the  various  newspapers  of  the  day,  I  feel  con 
strained  to  put  in  a  few  words  among  the  rest. 

"  My  father  was  intimately  acquainted  with  Lady  Byron's 
family  for  many  years,  both  before  and  after  her  marriage  ;  being, 
in  fact,  steward  to  Sir  Ralph  Milbanke  at  Seaham,  where  the 
marriage  took  place  :  and,  from  all  my  recollections  of  what  he 
told  me  of  the  affair  (and  he  used  often  to  talk  of  it,  up  to  the 
time  of  his  death,  eight  years  ago),  I  fully  agree  with  Mrs. 
Stowe's  view  of  the  case,  and  desire  to  add  my  humble  testi 
mony  to  the  truth  of  what  she  has  stated. 

"  Whilst  Byron  was  staying  at  Seaham,  previous  to  his  mar 
riage,  he  spent  most  of  his  time  pistol-shooting  in  the  planta 
tions  adjoining  the  hall,  often  making  use  of  his  glove  as  a 
mark ;  his  servant  being  with  him  to  load  for  him. 

"  When  all  was  in  readiness  for  the  wedding-ceremony 
(which  took  place  in  the  drawing-room  of  the  hall),  Byron  had 
to  be  sought  for  in  the  grounds,  where  he  was  walking  in  his 
usual  surly  mood. 

"  After  the  marriage,  they  posted  to  Halnaby  Lodge  in  York 
shire,  a  distance  of  about  forty  miles ;  to  which  place  my  father 
accompanied  them,  and  he  always  spoke  strongly  of  Lady  By 
ron's  apparent  distress  during  and  at  the  end  of  the  journey. 

"  The  insulting  words  mentioned  by  Mrs.  Stowe  were  spoken 


LADY  BYRON'S  STORY  AS  TOLD  ME.   257 

by  Byron  before  leaving  the  park  at  Seaham ;  after  which  he 
appeared  to  sit  in  moody  silence,  reading  a  book,  for  the  rest 
of  the  journey.  At  Halnaby,  a  number  of  persons,  tenants  and 
others,  were  met  to  cheer  them  on  their  arrival.  Of  these  he 
took  not  the  slightest  notice,  but  jumped  out  of  the  carriage, 
and  walked  away,  leaving  his  bride  to  alight  by  herself.  She 
shook  hands  with  my  father,  and  begged  that  he  would  see  that 
some  refreshment  was  supplied  to  those  who  had  thus  come  to 
welcome  them. 

"  I  have  in  my  possession  several  letters  (which  I  should  be 
glad  to  show  to  any  one  interested  in  the  matter)  both  from 
Lady  Byron,  and  her  mother,  Lady  Milbanke,  to  my  father,  all 
showing  the  deep  and  kind  interest  which  they  took  in  the 
welfare  of  all  connected  with  them,  and  directing  the  distribu 
tion  of  various  charities,  &c.  Pensions  were  allowed  both  to 
the  old  servants  of  the  Milbankes  and  to  several  poor  persons 
in  the  village  and  neighborhood  for  the  rest  of  their  lives  ;  and 
Lady  Byron  never  ceased  to  take  a  lively  interest  in  all  that 
concerned  them. 

"  I  desire  to  tender  my  humble  thanks  to  Mrs.  Stowe  for 
having  come  forward  in  defence  of  one  whose  character  has 
been  much  misrepresented ;  and  to  you,  sir,  for  having  published 
the  same  in  your  pages. 

"  I  have  the  honor  to  be,  sir,  yours  obediently, 

"  G.  H.  AIRD. 

"DAOURTY,  NORTHAMPTONSHIRE,  Sept.  29,  1869." 

17 


CHAPTER    III. 

CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS. 

T    HAVE  now  fulfilled  as   conscientiously  as 
possible  the  requests  of  those  who  feel  that 
they  have    a  right    to    know  exactly  what  was 
said  in  this  interview.  • 

It  has  been  my  object,  in  doing  this,  to  place 
myself  "just  where  I  should  stand  were  I  giving 
evidence  under  oath  before  a  legal  tribunal.  In 
my  first  published  account,  there  were  given 
some  smaller  details  of  the  story,  of  no  particu 
lar  value  to  the  main  purpose  of  it,  which  I 
received,  not  from  Lady  Byron,  but  from  her 
confidential  friend.  One  of  these  was  the  ac 
count  of  her  seeing  Lord  Byron's  favorite  span 
iel  lying  at  his  door,  and  the  other  was  the 
scene  of  the  parting. 
258 


CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS.       259 

The  first  was  communicated  to  me  before  I 
ever  saw  Lady  Byron,  and  under  these  circum 
stances  :  I  was  invited  to  meet  her,  and  had 
expressed  my  desire  to  do  so,  because  Lord 
Byron  had  been  all  my  life  an  object  of  great 
interest  to  me.  I  inquired  what  sort  of  a  per 
son  Lady  Byron  was.  My  friend  spoke  of  her 
with  enthusiasm.  I  then  said,  "  But  of  course 
she  never  loved  Lord  Byron,  or  she  would  not 
have  left  him."  The  lady  answered,  "  I  can 
show  you  with  what  feelings  she  left  him  by 
relating  this  story ; "  and  then  followed  the 
anecdote. 

Subsequently,  she  also  related  to  me  the  other 
story  of  the  parting-scene  between  Lord  and 
Lady  Byron.  In  regard  to  these  two  incidents, 
my  recollection  is  clear. 

It  will  be  observed  by  the  reader  that  Lady 
Byron's  conversation  with  me  was  simply  for 
consultation  on  one  point,  and  that  point  whether 
she  herself  should  publish  the  story  before  her 
death.  It  was  not,  therefore,  a  complete  history 


26O       CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS. 

of  all  events  in  their  order,  but  specimens  of  a 
few  incidents  and  facts.  Her  object  was,  not  to 
prove  her  story  to  me,  nor  to  put  me  in  posses 
sion  of  it  with  a  view  to  my  proving  it,  but  sim 
ply  and  briefly  to  show  me  what  it  was,  that  I 
might  judge  as  to  the  probable  results  of  its  pub 
lication  at  that  time. 

It      therefore      comprised      primarily      these 
points  :  — 

1.  An  exact  statement,  in  so  many  words,  of 
the  crime. 

2.  A  statement  of  the  manner  in  which  it  was 
first   forced  on   her  attention   by  Lord  Byron's 
words  and  actions,  including  his  admissions  and 
defences  of  it. 

3.  The  admission   of  a  period  when   she  had 
ascribed  his  whole  conduct  to  insanity. 

4.  A  reference  to  later  positive  evidences  of 
guilt,  —  the    existence    of    a    child,    and    Mrs. 
Leigh's  subsequent  repentance. 

And  here  I  have  a  word   to  say  in  reference 
to  the  alleged  inaccuracies  of  my  true  story. 


CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS.       20  I 

The  dates  that  Lady  Byron  gave  me  on  the 
memoranda  did  not  relate  either  to  the  time  of 
the  first  disclosure,  or  the  period  when  her 
doubts  became  certainties  ;  nor  did  her  conversa 
tion  touch  either  of  these  points  :  and,  on  a  care 
ful  review  of  the  latter,  I  see  clearly  that  it 
omitted  dwelling  upon  any  thing  which  I  might 
be  supposed  to  have  learned  from  her  already 
published  statement. 

I  re-enclosed  that  paper  to  her  from  London, 
and  have  never  seen  it  since. 

In  writing  my  account,  which  I  designed  to 
do  in  the  most  general  terms,  I  took  for  my 
guide  Miss  Martineau's  published  Memoir  of 
Lady  Byron,  wrhich  has  long  stood  uncontra- 
dicted  before  the  public,  of  which  Macmillan's 
London  edition  is  now  before  me.  The  reader 
is  referred  to  page  316,  which  reads  thus :  — 

"  She  was  born  1792  ;  married  in  January, 
1814;  returned  to  her  father's  house  in  1816  ; 
died  on  May  16,  1860."  This  makes  her  mar 
ried  life  two  years  ;  but  we  need  not  say  that 


262       CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS. 

the  date  is  inaccurate,  as  Lady  Byron  was  mar 
ried  in  1815. 

Supposing  Lady  Byron's  married  life  to  have 
covered  two  years,  I  could  only  reconcile  its 
continuance  for  that  length  of  time  to  her  un 
certainty  as  to  his  sanity ;  to  deceptions  prac 
tised  on  her,  making  her  doubt  at  one  time,  and 
believe  at  another ;  and  his  keeping  her  in  a 
general  state  of  turmoil  and  confusion,  till  at 
last  he  took  the  step  of  banishing  her. 

Various  other  points  taken  from  Miss  Marti- 
neau  have  also  been  attacked  as  inaccuracies  ; 
for  example,  the  number  of  executions  in  the 
house  :  but  these  points,  though  of  no  impor 
tance,  are  substantially  borne  out  by  Moore's 
statements. 

This  controversy,  unfortunately,  cannot  be 
managed  with  the  accuracy  of  a  legal  trial.  Its 
course,  hitherto,  has  rather  resembled  the  course 
of  a  drawing-room  scandal,  where  every  one 
freely  throws  in  an  assertion,  with  or  without 
proof.  In  making  out  my  narrative,  however,  I 


CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS.       263 

shall  use  only  certain  authentic  sources,  some 
of  which  have  for  a  long  time  been  before  the 
public,  and  some  of  which  have  floated  up  from 
the  waves  of  the  recent  controversy.  I  consider 
as  authentic  sources,  — 

Moore's  Life  of  Byron  ; 

Lady  Byron's  own  account  of  the  separation, 
published  in  1830  ; 

Lady  Byron's  statements  to  me  in  1856  ; 

Lord  Lindsay's  communication,  giving  an 
extract  from  Lady  Anne  Barnard's  diary,  and  a 
copy  of  a  letter  from  Lady  Byron  dated  1818, 
about  three  years  after  her  marriage  ; 

Mrs.  Minn's  testimony  as  given  in  a  daily 
paper  published  at  Newcastle,  England  ; 

And  Lady  Byron's  letters,  as  given  recently 
in  the  late  "  London  Quarterly." 

All  which  documents  appear  to  arrange  them 
selves  into  a  connected  series. 

From  these,  then,  let  us  construct  the  story. 

According  to  Mrs.  Minn's  account,  which  is 
likely  to  be  accurate,  the  time  spent  by  Lord 


264      CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS. 

and  Lady  Byron  in  bridal-visiting  was  three 
weeks  at  Halnaby  Hall,  and  six  weeks  at 
Seaham,  when  Mrs.  Minn  quitted  their  ser 
vice. 

During  this  first  period  of  three  weeks,  Lord 
Byron's  treatment  of  his  wife,  as  testified  to  by 
the  servant,  was  such  that  she  advised  her 
young  mistress  to  return  to  her  parents ;  and,  at 
one  time,  Lady  Byron  had  almost  resolved  to  do 
so. 

What  the  particulars  of  his  conduct  were,  the 
servant  refuses  to  state ;  being  bound  by  a  prom 
ise  of  silence  to  her  mistress.  She,  however, 
testifies  to  a  warm  friendship  existing  between 
Lady  Byron  and  Mrs.  Leigh,  in  a  manner  which 
would  lead  us  to  feel  that  Lady  Byron  received 
and  was  received  by  Lord  Byron's  sister  with 
the  greatest  affection.  Lady  Byron  herself 
says  to  Lady  Anne  Barnard,  "  I  had  heard  that 
he  was  the  best  of  brothers  ; "  and  the  infer 
ence  is,  that  she,  at  an  early  period  of  her  mar 
ried  life,  felt  the  .greatest  confidence  in  his  sister, 


CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS.       265 

and  wished  to  have  her  with  them  as  much  as 
possible.  In  Lady  Anne's  account,  this  wish  to 
have  the  sister  with  her  was  increased  by  Lady 
Byron's  distress  at  her  husband's  attempts  to 
corrupt  her  principles  with  regard  to  religion 
and  marriage. 

In  Moore's  Life,  vol.  iii.,  letter  217,  Lord  By 
ron  writes  from  Seaham  to  Moore,  under  date 
of  March  8,  sending  a  copy  of  his  verses  in 
Lady  Byron's  handwriting,  and  saying,  "  We 
shall  leave  this  place  to-morrow,  and  shall  stop 
on  our  way  to  town,  in  the  interval  of  taking  a 
house  there,  at  Col.  Leigh's,  near  Newmarket, 
where  any  epistle  of  yours  will  find  its  welcome 
way.  I  have  been  very  comfortable  here,  listen 
ing  to  that  d d  monologue  which  elderly 

gentlemen  call  conversation,  in  which  my  pious 
father-in-law  repeats  himself  every  evening,  save 
one,  when  he  played  upon  the  fiddle.  However, 
they  have  been  vastly  kind  and  hospitable,  and 
I  like  them  and  the  place  vastly  ;  and  I  hope 
they  will  live  many  happy  months.  Bell  is  in 


266       CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS. 

health  and  unvaried  good-humor  and  behavior  ; 
but  we  are  in  all  the  agonies  of  packing  and 
parting." 

Nine  days  after  this,  under  date  of  March  17, 
Lord  Byron  says,  "  We  mean  to  metropolize 
to-morrow,  and  you  will  address  your  next  to 
Piccadilly."  The  inference  is,  that  the  days 
intermediate  were  spent  at  Col.  Leigh's.  The 
next  letters,  and  all  subsequent  ones  for  six 
months,  are  dated  from  Piccadilly. 

As  we  have  shown,  there  is  every  reason  to 
believe  that  a  warm  friendship  had  thus  arisen 
between  Mrs.  Leigh  and  Lady  Byron,  and  that, 
during  all  this  time,  Lady  Byron  desired  as 
much  of  the  society  of  her  sister-in-law  as  pos 
sible.  She  was  a  married  woman  and  a  mother, 
her  husband's  nearest  relative  ;  and  Lady  Byron 
could  with  more  propriety  ask,  from  herr  counsel 
or  aid  in  respect  to  his  "peculiarities  than  she 
could  from  her  own  parents.  If  we  consider 
the  character  of  Lady  Byron  as  given  by  Mrs. 
Minns,  —  that  of  a  young  person  of  warm  but 


CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS.       267 

repressed  feeling,  without  sister  or  brother,  long 
ing  for  human  sympathy,  and  having  so  far  found 
no  relief  but '  in  talking  with  a  faithful  depend 
ant,  —  we  may  easily  see  that  the  acquisition  of 
a  sister  through  Lord  Byron  might  have  been 
all  in  all  to  her,  and  that  the  feelings  which  he 
checked  and  rejected  for  himself  might  have 
flowed  out  towards  his  sister  with  enthusiasm. 
The  date  of  Mrs.  Leigh's  visit  does  not  appear. 

The  first  domestic  indication  in  Lord  Byron's 
letters  from  London  is  the  announcement  of  the 
death  of  Lady  Byron's  uncle,  Lord  Wentworth, 
from  whom  came  large  expectations  of  property. 
Lord  Byron  had.  mentioned  him  before  in  his 
letters  as  so  kind  to  Bell  and  himself,  that  he 
could  not  find  it  in  his  heart  to  wish  him-  in 
heaven  if  he  preferred  staying  here.  In  his  let 
ter  of  April  23,  he  mentions  going  to  the  play 
immediately  after  hearing  this  news,  "  although," 
as  he  says,  "  he  ought  to  have  staid  at  home 
in  sackcloth  for  '  unc.'  " 

On  June   12,  he  writes  that  Lady  Byron  is 


268       CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS. 

more  than  three  months  advanced  in  her  prog 
ress  towards  maternity ;  and  that  they  have  been 
out  very  little,  as  he  wishes  to  keep  her  quiet. 
We  are  informed  by  Moore  that  Lord  Byron 
was  at  this  time  a  member  of  the  Drury-Lane 
Theatre  Committee  ;  and  that,  in  this  unlucky 
connection,  one  of  the  fatalities  of  the  first  year 
of  trial  as  a  husband  lay.  From  the  strain  of 
Byron's  letters,  as  given  in  Moore,  it  is  appar 
ent,  that,  while  he  thinks  it  best  for  his  wife  to 
remain  at  home,  he  does  not  propose  to  share 
the  retirement,  but  prefers  running  his  own  sep 
arate  career  with  such  persons  as  thronged  the 
greenroom  of  the  theatre  in  those  days. 

In  commenting  on  Lord  Byron's  course,  we 
must  not  by  any  means  be  supposed  to  indicate 
that  he  was  doing  any  more  or  worse  than  most 
gay  young  men  of  his  time.  The  license  of  the 
day  as  to  getting  drunk  at  dinner-parties,  and 
leading,  generally,  what  would,  in  these  days,  be 
called  a  disorderly  life,  was  great.  We  should 
infer  that  none  of  the  literary  men  of  Byron's 


CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS.       269 

time  would  have  been  ashamed  of  being  drunk 
occasionally.  The  Noctes  Ambrosianae  Club 
of  "  Blackwood  "  is  full  of  songs  glorying,  in  the 
broadest  terms,  in  out-and-out  drunkenness,  and 
inviting  to  it  as  the  highest  condition  of  a  civil 
ized  being.* 

But  drunkenness  upon  Lord  Byron  had  a 
peculiar  and  specific  effect,  which  he  notices 

afterwards,    in    his   Journal,   at  Venice  :    "  The 

* 

effect  of  all  wines  and  spirits  upon  me  is,  how 
ever,  strange.  It  settles,  but  makes  me  gloomy, 
—  gloomy  at  the  very  moment  of  their' effect : 
it  composes,  however,  though  sullenly"  f  And 
again,  in  another  place,  he  says,  "  Wine  and 
spirits  make  me  sullen,  and  savage  to  ferocity." 

*  Shelton  Mackenzie,  in  a  note  to  the  "  Noctes  "  of  July,  1822,  gives 
the  following  saying  of  Maginn,  one  of  the  principal  lights  of  the  club: 
"  No  man,  however  much  he  might  tend  to  civilization,  was  to  be  regarded  as 
having  absolutely  reached  its  apex  until  he  was  drunk."  He  also  records  it 
as  a  further  joke  of  the  club,  that  a  man's  having  reached  this  apex  was  to 
be  tested  by  his  inability  to  pronounce  the  -word  "  civilization,"  which,  he 
says,  after  ten  o'clock  at  night  ought  to  be  abridged  to  civilation,  "  by  syn 
cope,  or  vigorously  speaking  by  hic-cup." 

t  Vol.  v.  pp.  61,  75. 


27O      CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS. 

It  is  well  known  that  the  effects  of  alcoholic 
excitement  are  various  as  the  natures  of  the 
subjects.  But  by  far  the  worst  effects,  and  the 
most  destructive  to  domestic  peace,  are  those 
that  occur  in  cases  where  spirits,  instead  of  act 
ing  on  the  nerves  of  motion,  and  depriving  the 
subject  of  power  in  that  direction,  stimulate 
the  brain  so  as  to  produce  there  the  ferocity,  the 
steadiness,  the  utter  deadness  to  compassion  or 
conscience,  which  characterize  a  madman.  How 
fearful  to  a  sensitive  young  mother  in  the  period 
of  pregnancy  might  be  the  return  of  such  a  mad 
man  to  the  domestic  roof!  Nor  can  we  account 
for  those  scenes  described  in  Lady  Anne  Bar 
nard's  letters,  where  Lord  Byron  returned  from 
his  evening  parties  to  try  torturing  experiments 
on  his  wife,  otherwise  than  by  his  own  state 
ment,  that  spirits,  while  they  steadied  "him, 
made  him  "  gloomy,  and  savage  to  ferocity." 
Take  for  example  this  :  — 

"  One  night,  coming  home  from  one  of  his   lawless  parties, 
he  saw  me  (Lady  B.)  so  indignantly  collected,  and  bearing  all 


CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF   EVENTS.       2/1 

with  such  a  determined  calmness,  that  a  rush  of  remorse 
seemed  to  come  over  him.  He  called  himself  a  monster,  and, 
though  his  sister  was  present,  threw  himself  in  agony  at  my 
feet.  '  I  could  not,  no,  I  could  not,  forgiVe  him  such  injuries  ! 
He  had  lost  me  forever  ! '  Astonished  at  this  return  to  virtue, 
my  tears,  I  believe,  flowed  over  his  face ;  and  I  said,  '  Byron, 
all  is  forgotten  :  never,  never  shall  you  hear  of  it  more.' 

"  He  started  up,  and,  folding  his  arms  while  he  looked  at 
me,  burst  out  into  laughter.  'What  do  you  mean?'  said  I. 
<  Only  a  philosophical  experiment ;  that's  all,'  said  he.  '  I  wished 
to  ascertain  the  value  of  your  resolutions.' " 

To  ascribe  such  deliberate  cruelty  as  this  to 
the  effect  of  drink  upon  Lord  Byron,  is  the  most 
charitable  construction  that  can  be  put  upon  his 
conduct. 

Yet  the  manners  of  the  period  were  such, 
that  Lord  Byron  must  have  often  come  to 
this  condition  while  only  doing  what  many  of 
his  acquaintances  did  freely,  and  without  fear 
of  consequences. 

Mr.  Moore,  with  his  usual  artlessness,  gives 
us  an  idea  of  a  private  supper  between  himself 
and  Lord  Byron.  We  give  it,  with  our  own 
Italics,  as  a  specimen  of  many  others  :  — 


2/2       CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS. 

"  Having  taken  upon  me  to  order  the  repast,  and  knowing 
that  Lord  Byron  for  the  last  two  days  had  done  nothing 
towards  sustenance  beyond  eating  a  few  biscuits  and  (to 
appease  appetite)  chewing  mastic,  I  desired  that  we  should 
have  a  good  supply  of  at  least  two  kinds  of  fish.  My  com 
panion,  however,  confined  himself  to  lobsters  ;  and  of  these 
finished  two  or  three,  to  his  own  share,  interposing,  some 
times,  a  small  liqueur-glass  of  strong  white  brandy,  sometimes 
a  tumbler  of  very  hot  water,  and  then  pure  brandy  again,  to  the 
amount  of  near  half  a  dozen  small  glasses  of  the  latter,  without 
which,  alternately  with  the  hot  water,  he  appeared  to  think  the 
lobster  could  not  be  digested.  After  this,  we  had  claret,  of 
which,  having  despatched  two  bottles  between  us,  at  about  four 
o'clock  in  the  morning  we  parted. 

"  As  Pope  has  thought  his  '  delicious  lobster-nights '  worth 
commemorating,  these  particulars  of  one  in  which  Lord  Byron 
was  concerned  may  also  have  some  interest. 

"  Among  other  nights  of  the  same  description  which  I  had  the 
happiness  of  passing  -with  him,  I  remember  once,  in  returning 
home  from  some  assembly  at  rather  a  late  hour,  we  saw  lights 
in  the  windows  of  his  old  haunt,  Stevens's  in  Bond  Street,  and 
agreed  to  stop  there  and  sup.  On  entering,  we  found  an  old 

friend  of  his,  Sir  G W ,  who  joined  our  party ;  and,  the 

lobsters  and  brandy  and  water  being  put  in  requisition,  it  was  (as 
usual  on  such  occasions]  broad  daylight  before  we  separated.'1''  — 
Vol.  iii.  p.  83. 


CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS.       2/3 

During  the  latter  part  of  Lady  Byron's  preg 
nancy,  it  appears  from  Moore  that  Byron  was, 
night  after  night,  engaged  out  at  dinner-parties, 
in  which  getting  drunk  was  considered  as  of 
course  \^Q  finale,  as  appears  from  the  following 
letters  :  — 

[LETTER   228.] 
TO    MR.    MOORE. 

"TERRACE,  PICCADILLY,  Oct.  31,  1815. 

p 

"I  have  not  been  able  to  ascertain  precisely  the  time  of 
duration  of  the  stock-market ;  but  I  believe  it  is  a  good  time 
for  selling  out,  and  I  hope  so.  First,  because  I  shall  see  you ; 
and,  next,  because  I  shall  receive  certain  moneys  on  behalf  of 
Lady  B.,  the  which  will  materially  conduce  to  my  comfort ;  I 
wanting  (as  the  duns  say)  '  to  make  up  a  sum.' 

"  Yesterday  I  dined  out  with  a  large-ish  party,  where  were 
Sheridan  and  Colman,  Harry  Harris  of  C.  G.,  and  his  brother, 
Sir  Gilbert  Heathcote,  Ds.  Kinnaird,  and  others  of  note  and 
notoriety.  Like  other  parties  of  the  kind,  it  was  Jirst  silent,  then 
talky,  then  argumentative,  then  disputatious %  then  imintelligible* 
then  altogethery,  then  inarticulate,  and  then  drunk.  When  we 
had  reached  the  last  step  of  this  glorious  ladder,  it  was  difficult 
to  get  down  again  without  stumbling ;  and,  to  crown  all,  Kin 
naird  and  I  had  to  conduct  Sheridan  down  a  d d  corkscrew 

staircase,  which  had  certainly  been  constructed  before  the  dis- 


*  These  Italics  are  ours. 
18 


2/4       CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS. 

covery  of  fermented  liquors,  and  to  which  no  legs,  however 
crooked,  could  possibly  accommodate  themselves.  We  deposited 
him  safe  at  home,  where  his  man,  evidently  used  to  the  business,* 
waited  to  receive  him  in  the  hall. 

"  Both  he  and  Colman  were,  as  usual,  very  good  ;  but  I 
carried  away  much  wine,  and  the  wine  had  previously  carried 
away  my  memory  :  so  that  all  was  hiccough  and  happiness  for  the 
last  hour  or  so,  and  I  am  not  impregnated  with  any  of  the  con 
versation.  Perhaps  you  heard  of  a  late  answer  of  Sheridan  to 
the  watchman  who  found  him  bereft  of  that  'divine  particle 
of  air'  called  reason.  .  .  .  He  (the  watchman)  found  Sherry 
in  the  street,  fuddled  and  bewildered,  and  almost  insensible. 
'  Who  are  you,  sir  ? '  —  No  answer.  '  What's  your  name  ? '  —  A 
hiccough.  '  What's  your  name  ? '  —  Answer,  in  a  slow,  deliber 
ate,  and  impassive  tone,  '  Wilberforce  ! '  Is  not  that  Sherry 
all  over  ?  —  and,  to  my  mind,  excellent.  Poor  fellow  !  his  very 
dregs  are  better  than  the  '  first  sprightly  runnings '  of  others. 

"  My  paper  is  full,  and  I  have  a  grievous  headache. 

"  P.S.  —  Lady  B.  is  in  full  progress.  Next  month  will  bring 
to  light  (with  the  aid  of  'Juno  Lucina,  fer  opem?  or  rather  opes, 
for  the  last  are  most  wanted)  the  tenth  wonder  of  the  world  ; 
Gil  Bias  being  the  eighth,  and  he  (my  son's  father)  the  ninth." 

Here  we  have  a  picture  of  the  whole  story,  — 
Lady  Byron  within  a  month  of  her  confinement ; 

*  These  Italics  are  ours. 


CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS.       2/5 

her  money  being  used  to  settle  debts  ;  her  hus 
band  out  at  a  dinner-party,  going  through  the 
iisual  course  of  such  parties,  able  to  keep  his 
legs  and  help  Sheridan  down  stairs,  and  going 
home  "  gloomy,  and  savage  to  ferocity,"  to  his 
wife. 

Four  days  after  this  (letter  229),  we  find  that 
this  dinner-party  is  not  an  exceptional  one, 
but  one  of  a  series  :  for  he  says,  "  To-day  I  dine 
with  Kinnaird,  —  we  are  to  have  Sheridan  and 
Colman  again  ;  and  to-morrow,  once  more,  at  Sir 
Gilbert  Heathcote's." 

Afterward,  in  Venice,  he  reviews  the  state 
of  his  health  at  this  period  in  London  ;  and 
his  account  shows  that  his  excesses  in  the 
vices  of  his  times  had  wrought  effects  on  his 
sensitive,  nervous  organization,  very  different 
from  what  they  might  on  the  more  phlegmatic 
constitutions  of  ordinary  Englishmen.  In  his 
journal,  dated  Venice,  Feb.  2,  1821,  he  says, — 

"  I  have  been  considering  what  can  be  the  reason  why  I 
always  wake  at  a  certain  hour  in  the  morning,  and  always  in 


2/6      CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS. 

very  bad  spirits,  —  I  may  say,  in  actual  despair  and  despond 
ency,  in  all  respects,  even  of  that  which  pleased  me  over  night. 
In  about  an  hour  or  two  this  goes  off,  and  I  compose  either  to 
sleep  again,  or  at  least  to  quiet.  In  England,  five  years  ago,  I 
had  the  same  kind  of  hypochondria,  but  accompanied  with  so 
violent  a  thirst,  that  I  have  drunk  as  many  as  fifteen  bottles  of 
soda-water  in  one  night,  after  going  to  bed,  and  been  still 
thirsty,  — calculating,  however,  some  lost  from  the  bursting-out 
and  effervescence  and  overflowing  of  the  soda-water  in  drawing 
the  corks,  or  striking  off  the  necks  of  the  bottles  from  mere 
thirsty  impatience.  At  present,  I  have  not  the  thirst ;  but  the 
depression  of  spirits  is  no  less  violent."  —  Vol.  v.  p.  96. 

These  extracts  go  to  show  what  mtist  have 
been  the  condition  of  the  man  whom  Lady  Byron 
was  called  to  receive  at  the  intervals  when  he 
came  back  from  his  various  social  excitements 
and  pleasures.  That  his  nerves  were  exacer 
bated  by  violent  extremes  of  abstinence  and 
reckless  indulgence ;  that  he  was  often  day 
after  day  drunk,  and  that  drunkenness  made 
him  savage  and  ferocious, — -such  are  the  facts 
clearly  shown  by  Mr.  Moore's  narrative.  Of 
the  natural  peculiarities  of  Lord  Byron's  tern- 


CHRONOLOGICAL   SUMMARY    OF   EVENTS.       2// 

per,  he  thus  speaks  to  the  Countess  of  Blessing- 
ton  :  — 

"  I  often  think  that  I  inherit  my  violence  and  bad  temper 
from  my  poor  mother,  —  not  that  my  father,  from  all  I  could 
ever  learn,  had  a  much  better  :  so  that  it  is  no  wonder  I  have 
such  a  very  bad  one.  As  long  as  I  can  remember  any  thing,  I 
recollect  being  subject  to  violent  paroxysms  of  rage,  so  dispro- 
portioned  to  the  cause  as  to  surprise  me  when  they  were  over ; 
and  this  still  continues.  I  eannot  coolly  view  any  thing  which 
excites  my  feelings ;  and,  once  the  lurking  devil  in  me  is  roused, 
I  lose  all  command  of  myself.  I  do  not  recover  a  good  fit  of 
rage  for  days  after.  Mind,  I  do  not  by  this  mean  that  the  ill 
humor  continues,  as,  on  the  contrary,  that  quickly  subsides,  ex 
hausted  by  its  own  violence  ;  but  it  shakes  me  terribly,  and 
leaves  me  low  and  nervous  after."  —  Lady  Blessington's  Conver 
sations,  p.  142. 

That  during  this  time  also  his  irritation  and  ill 
temper  were  increased  by  the  mortification  of 
duns,  debts,  and  executions,  is  on  the  face  of 
Moore's  story.  Moore  himself  relates  one  inci 
dent,  which  gives  some  idea  of  the  many  which 
may  have  occurred  at  these  times,  in  a  note  on 
p.  215,  vol.  iv.,  where  he  speaks  of  Lord  Byron's 
destroying  a  favorite  old  watch  that  had  been 


2/8   CHRONOLOGICAL  SUMMARY  OF  EVENTS. 

his  companion  from  boyhood,  and  gone  with  him 
to  Greece.  "  In  a  fit  of  vexation  and  rage, 
brought  upon  him  by  some  of  these  humiliating 
embarrassments,  to  which  he  was  now  almost 
daily  a  prey,  he  furiously  dashed  this  watch  on 
the  hearth,  and  ground  it  to  pieces  with  the 
poker  among  the  ashes." 

It  is  no  wonder,  that,  with  a  man  of  this  kind 
to  manage,  Lady  Byron  should  have  clung  to 
the  only  female  companionship  she  could  dare  to 
trust  in  the  case,  and  earnestly  desired"  to  retain 
with  her  the  sister,  who  seemed,  more  than  her 
self,  to  have  influence  over  him. 

The  first  letter  given  by  "  The  Quarterly," 
from  Lady  Byron  to  Mrs.  Leigh,  without  a  date, 
evidently  belongs  to  this  period,  when  the  sister's 
society  presented  itself  as  a  refuge  in  her  ap 
proaching  confinement.  Mrs.  Leigh  speaks  of 
leaving.  The  young  wife,  conscious  that  the 
house  presents  no  attractions,  and  that  soon  she 
herself  shall  be  laid  by,  cannot  urge  Mrs.  Leigh's 
stay  as  likely  to  give  her  any  pleasure,  but  only 
as  a  comfort  to  herself. 


CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS.       2/9 

"  You  will  think  me  very  foolish  ;  but  I  have  tried  two  or 
three  times,  and  cannot  talk  to  you  of  your  departure  with  a 
decent  visage  :  so  let  me  say  one  word  in  this  way  to  spare  my 
philosophy.  With  the  expectations  which  I  have,  I  never  will 
nor  can  ask  you  to  stay  one  moment  longer  than  you  are  in 
clined  to  do.  It  would  [be]  the  worst  return  for  all  I  ever 
received  from  you.  But  in  this  at  least  I  am  '  truth  itself,' 
when  I  say,  that,  whatever  the  situation  may  be,  there  is  no 
one  whose  society  is  dearer  to  me,  or  can  contribute  more  to 
my  happiness.  These  feelings  will  not  change  under  any  cir 
cumstances,  and  I  should  be  grieved  if  you  did  not  understand 
them.  Should  you  hereafter  condemn  me,  I  shall  not  love  you 
less.  I  will  say  no  more.  Judge  for  yourself  about  going  or 
staying.  I  wish  you  to  consider  yourself,  if  you  could  be  wise 
enough  to  do  that,  for  the  first  time  in  your  life. 

"  Thine,  "  A.  I.  B." 

Addressed  on  the  cover,  "  To  The  Hon.  Mrs.  Leigh." 

This  letter  not  being  dated,  we  have  no  clew 
but  what  we  obtain  from  its  own  internal  evi 
dence.  It  certainly  is  not  written  in  Lady  By 
ron's  usual,  clear,  and  elegant  style  ;  and  is,  in 
this  respect,  in  striking  contrast  to  all  her  letters 
that  I  have  ever  seen. 

But  the  notes  written  by  a  young  woman  under 


280      CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS. 

such  peculiar  and  distressing  circumstances  must 
not  be  judged  by  the  standard  of  calmer'hours. 

Subsequently  to  this  letter,  and  during  that 
stormy  irrational  period  when  Lord  Byron's 
conduct  became  daily  more  and  more  unaccount 
able,  may  have  come  that  startling  scene  in 
which  Lord  Byron  took  every  pains  to  convince 
his  wife  of  improper  relations  subsisting  between 
himself  and  his  sister. 

What  an  utter  desolation  this  must  have  been 
to  the  wife,  tearing  from  her  the  last  hold  of 
friendship,  and  the  last  refuge  to  which  she  had 
clung  in  her  sorrows,  may  easily  be  conceived. 

In  this  crisis,  it  appears  that  the  sister  con 
vinced  Lady  Byron  that  the  whole  was  to  be 
attributed  to  insanity.  It  would  be  a  convic 
tion  gladly  accepted,  and  bringing  infinite  relief, 
although  still  surrounding  her  path  with  fearful 
difficulties. 

That  such  was  the  case,  is  plainly  asserted 
by  Lady  Byron  in  her  statement  published  in 
1 830.  Speaking  of  her  separation,  Lady  Byron 
says,  — 


CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY   OF   EVENTS.      28 1 

"  The  facts  are,  I  left  London  for  Kirkby  Mallory,  the  resi 
dence  of  my  father  and  mother,  on  the  I5th  of  January,  1816. 
Lord  Byron  had  signified  to  me  in  writing,  Jan.  6,  his  absolute 
desire  that  I  should  leave  London  on  the  earliest  day  that  I 
could  conveniently  fix.  It  was  not  safe  for  me  to  encounter  the 
fatigues  of  a  journey  sooner  than  the  I5th.  Previously  to  my 
departtire,  it  had  been  strongly  impressed  on  my  mind  tJiat  Lord 
Byron  was  under  the  influence  of  insanity. 

"  This  opinion  was  in  a  great  measure  derived  from  the  com 
munications  made  to  me  by  his  nearest  relatives  and  personal 
attendant." 

Now,  there  was  no  nearer  relative  than  Mrs. 
Leigh ;  and  the  personal  attendant  was  Fletcher. 
It  was  therefore  presumably  Mrs.  Leigh  who 
convinced  Lady  Byron  of  her  husband's  insan 
ity. 

Lady  Byron  says,  "  It  was  even  represented 
to  me  that  he  was  in  danger  of  destroying  him 
self. 

"  With  the  concurrence  of  his  family,  I  had 
consulted  with  Dr.  Baillie,  as  a  friend,  on  Jan.  8, 
as  to  his  supposed  malady."  Now,  Lord  Byron's 
written  order  for  her  to  leave  came  on  Jan.  6. 


282      CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS. 

It  appears,  then,  that  Lady  Byron,  acting  in  con 
currence  with  Mrs.  Leigh  and  others  of  her  hus 
band's  family,  consulted  Dr.  Baillie,  on  Jan.  8, 
as  to  what  she  should  do  ;  the  symptoms  pre 
sented  to  Dr.  Baillie  being,  evidently,  insane 
hatred  of  his  wife  on  the  part  of  Lord  Byron, 
and  a  determination  to  get  her  out  of  the  house. 
Lady  Byron  goes  on  :  — 

"  On  acquainting  him  with  the  state  of  the  case,  and  with 
Lord  Byron's  desire  that  I  should  leave  London,  Dr.  Baillie 
thought  my  absence  might  be  advisable  as  an  experiment, 
assuming  the  fact  of  mental  derangement ;  for  Dr.  Baillie,  not 
having  had  access  to  Lord  Byron,  could  not  pronounce  an  opin 
ion  on  that  point.  He  enjoined,  that,  in  correspondence  with 
Lord  Byron,  I  should  avoid  all  but  light  and  soothing  topics. 
Under  these  impressions,  I  left  London,  determined  to  follow 
the  advice  given  me  by  Dr.  Baillie.  Whatever  might  have  been 
the  nature  of  Lord  Byron's  treatment  of  me  from  the  time  of 
my  marriage,  yet,  supposing  him  to  have  been  in  a  state  of 
mental  alienation,  it  was  not  for  me,  nor  for  any  person  of  com 
mon  humanity,  to  manifest  at  that  moment  a  sense  of  injury." 

It  appears,  then,  that  the  domestic  situation  in 
Byron's  house  at  the  time  of  his  wife's  expulsion 


CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS.       283 

was  one  so  grave  as  to  call  for  family  counsel ; 
for  Lady  Byron,  generally  accurate,  speaks  in 
the  plural  number.  "  His  nearest  relatives " 
certainly  includes  Mrs.  Leigh.  "  His  family " 
includes  more.  That  some  of  Lord  Byron's  own 
relatives  were  cognizant  of  facts  at  this  time, 
and  that  they  took  Lady  Byron's  side,  is  shown 
by  one  of  his  own  *chance  admissions.  In  vol. 
vi.  p,  394,  in  a  letter  on  Bowles,  he  says,  speak 
ing  of  this  time,  "  All  my  relations,  save  one,  fell 
from  me  like  leaves  from  a  tree  in  autumn." 
And  in  Medwin's  Conversations  he  says,  "  Even 
my  cousin  George  Byron,  who  had  been  brought 
up  with  me,  and  whom  I  loved  as  a  brother,  took 
my  wife's  part."  The  conduct  must  have  been 
marked  in  the  extreme  that  led  to  this  result. 

We  cannot  help  stopping  here  to  say  that 
Lady  Byron's  situation  at .  this  time  has  been 
discussed  in  our  days  with  a  want  of  ordinary 
human  feeling  that  is  surprising.  Let  any 
father  and  mother,  reading  this,  look  on  their 
own  daughter,  and  try  to  make  the  case  their 
own. 


284     -CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS. 

After  a  few  short  months  of  married  life,  — 
months  full  of  patient  endurance  of  the  stran 
gest  and  most  unaccountable  treatment,  —  she 
comes  to  them,  expelled  from  her  husband's 
house,  an  object  of  hatred  and  aversion  to  him, 
and  having  to  settle  for  herself  the  awful  ques 
tion,  whether  he  is  a  dangerous  madman  or  a 
determined  villain. 

Such  was  this  young  wife's  situation. 

With  a  heart  at  times  wrung  with  compassion 
for  her  husband  as  a  helpless  maniac,  and  fearful 
that  all  may  end  in  suicide,  yet  compelled  to 
leave  him,  she  writes  on  the  road  the  much- 
quoted  letter,  beginning  "  Dear  Duck."  This  is 
an  exaggerated  and  unnatural  letter,  it  is  true, 
but  of  precisely  the  character  that  might  be  ex 
pected  from  an  inexperienced  young  wife  when 
dealing  with  a  husband  supposed  to  be  insane. 

The  next  day,-  she  addressed  to  Augusta  this 
letter  :  — 

"  MY  DEAREST  A.,  —  It  is  my  great  comfort  that  you  are  still 
in  Piccadilly." 


CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS.      28$ 

And  again,  on  the  23d  :  — 

"  DEAREST  A.,  —  I  know  you  feel  for  me,  as  I  do  for  you  ; 
and  perhaps  I  am  better  understood  than  I  think.  You  have 
been,  ever  since  I  knew  you,  my  best  comforter ;  and  will  so  re 
main,  unless  you  grow  tired  of  the  office,  —  which  may  well  be." 

We  can  see  here  how  self-denying  and  heroic 
appears  to  Lady  Byron  the  conduct  of  the  sister, 
who  patiently  remains  to  soothe  and  guide  and 
restrain  the  moody  madman,  whose  madness 
takes  a  form,  at  times,  so  repulsive  to  every  wo 
manly  feeling.  She  intimates  that  she  should 
not  wonder  should  Augusta  grow  weary  of  the 
office. 

Lady  Byron  continues  her  statement  thus  :  — 

"  When  I  arrived  at  Kirkby  Mallory,  my  parents  were  unac 
quainted  with  the  existence  of  any  causes  likely  to  destroy  my 
prospects  of  happiness  ;  and,  when  I  communicated  to  them 
the  opinion  that  had  been  formed  concerning  Lord  Byron's 
state  of  mind,  they  were  most  anxious  to  promote  his  restora 
tion  by  every  means  in  their  power.  They  assured  those  rela 
tions  that  were  with  him  in  London  that  '  they  would  devote 
their  whole  care  and  attention  to  the  alleviation  of  his 
malady.'  " 


286   CHRONOLOGICAL  SUMMARY  OF  EVENTS. 

Here  we  have  a  quotation  *  from  a  letter 
written  by  Lady  Milbanke  to  the  anxious  "  rela 
tions  "  who  are  taking  counsel  about  "Lord 
Byron  in  town.  Lady  Byron  also  adds,  in 
justification  of  her  mother  from  Lord  Byron's 
slanders,  "  She  had  always  treated  him  with 
an  affectionate  consideration  and  indulgence, 
which  extended  to  every  little  peculiarity  of 
his  feelings.  Never  did  an  irritating  word  es 
cape  her  lips  in  her  whole  intercourse  with  him." 

Now  comes  a  remarkable  part  of  Lady 
Byron's  statement :  — 

"  The  accounts  given  me  after  I  left  Lord  Byron,  by 
those  in  constant  intercourse  with  him,t  added  to  those  doubts 

*  This  little  incident  shows  the  characteristic  carefulness  and  accuracy  of 
Lady  Byron's  habits.  This  statement  was  written  fourteen  years  after  the 
events  spoken  of;  but  Lady  Byron  carefully  quotes  a  passage  from  her 
mother's  letter  written  at  that  time.  This  shows  that  a  copy  of  Lady  Mil- 
banke's  letter  had  been  preserved,  and  makes  it  appear  probable  that  copies 
of  the  whole  correspondence  of  that  period  were  also  kept.  Great  light 
could  be  thrown  on  the  whole  transaction,  could  these  documents  be 
consulted. 

t  Here,  again,  Lady  Byron's  sealed  papers  might  furnish  light.  The 
letters  addressed  to  her  at  this  time  by  those  in  constant  intercourse  with 
Lord  Byron  are  doubtless  preserved,  and  would  show  her  ground  of  action. 


CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS.       28/ 

which  had  before  transiently  occurred  to  my  mind  as  to  the 
reality  of  the  alleged  disease ;  and  the  reports  of  his  medical 
attendants  were  far  from  establishing  any  thing  like  lunacy." 

When  these  doubts  arose  in  her  mind,  it  is 
not  natural  to  suppose,  that  they  should,  at  first, 
involve  Mrs.  Leigh.  She  still  appears  to  Lady 
Byron  as  the  devoted,  believing  sister,  fully  con 
vinced  of  her  brother's  insanity,  and  endeavor 
ing  to  restrain  and  control  him. 

But  if  Lord  Byron  were  sane,  if  the  purposes 
he  had  avowed  to  his  wife  were  real,  he  must 
have  lied  about  his  sister  in  the  past,  and  per 
haps  have  the  worst  intentions  for  the  future. 

The  horrors  of  that  state  of  vacillation  be 
tween  the  conviction  of  insanity  and  the  com 
mencing  conviction  of  something  worse  can 
scarcely  be  told. 

At  all  events,  the  wife's  doubts  extend  so  far, 
that  she  speaks  out  to  her  parents.  "  UNDER 
THIS  UNCERTAINTY,"  says  the  statement,  "  I 
deemed  it  right  to  communicate  to  my  parents, 
that,  if  I  were  to  consider  Lord  Byron's  past 


288       CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS. 

conduct  as  that  of  a  person  of  sound  mind, 
nothing  could  induce  me  to  return  to  him.  It 
therefore  appeared  expedient,  both  to  them  and 
to  myself,  to  consult  the  ablest  advisers.  For 
that  object,  and  also  to  obtain  still  further  infor 
mation  respecting  appearances  which  indicated 

mental  derangement,  my  mother  determined  to 

•* 
go  to  London.     She  was   empowered  by  me  to 

take  legal  opinion  on  a  written  statement  of 
mine ;  though  I  then  had  reasons  for  reserving  a 
part  of  the  case  from  the  knowledge  even  of  my 
father  and  mother!' 

It  is  during  this  time  of  uncertainty  that  the 
next  letter  to  Mrs.  Leigh  may  be  placed.  It 
seems  to  be  rather  a  fragment  of  a  letter  than  a 
whole  one :  perhaps  it  is  an  extract ;  in  which 
case  it  would  be  desirable,  if  possible,  to  view  it 
in  connection  with  the  remaining  text  :  — 

"JAN.  25,  1816. 

"  MY  DEAREST  AUGUSTA,  —  Shall  I  still  be  your  sister  ?  I 
must  resign  my  rights  to  be  so  considered  ;  but  I  don't  think 
that  will  make  any  difference  in  the  kindness  I  have  so  uni 
formly  experienced  from  you." 


CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY   OF    EVENTS.       289 

This  fragment  is  not  signed,  nor  finished  in 
any  way,  but  indicates  that  the  writer  is  about 
to  take  a  decisive  step. 

On  the  i /th,  as  we  have  seen,  Lady  Milbanke 
had  written,  inviting  Lord  Byron.  Subsequently, 
she  went  to  London  to  make  more  particular 
inquiries  into  his  state.  This  fragment  seems 
part  of  a  letter  from  Lady  Byron,  called  forth  in 
view  of  some  evidence  resulting  from  her  moth 
er's  observations.* 

Lady  Byron  now  adds,  — 

"  Being  convinced  by  the  result  of  these  inquiries,  and  by 
the  tenor  of  Lord  Byron's  proceedings,  that  the  notion  of  in 
sanity  was  an  illusion,  I  no  longer  hesitated  to  authorize  such 
measures  as  were  necessary  in  order  to  secure  me  from  ever 
being  again  placed  in  his  power. 

"  Conformably  with  this  resolution,  my  father  wrote  to  him, 
on  the  2d  of  February,  to  request  an  amicable  separation." 

The  following  letter  to  Mrs.  Leigh  is  dated 
the  day  after  this  application,  and  is  in  many 
respects  a  noticeable  one  :  — 

*  Probably  Lady  Milbanke's  letters  are  among  the  sealed  papers,  and 

would  more  fully  explain  the  situation. 
19 


2QO   CHRONOLOGICAL  SUMMARY  OF  EVENTS. 

"  KIRKBY  MALLORY,  Feb.  3,  1816. 

"  MY  DEAREST.  AUGUSTA,  —  You  are  desired  by  your  broth 
er  to  ask  if  my  father  has  acted  with  my  concurrence  in  pro 
posing  a  separation.  He  has.  It  cannot  be  supposed,  that,  in 
my  present  distressing  situation,  I  am  capable  of  stating  in  a 
detailed  manner  the  reasons  which  will  not  only  justify  this 
measure,  but  compel  me  to  take  it  ;  and  it  never  can  be  my 
wish  to  remember  Tinnecessarily  \sic\  those  injuries  for  which, 
however  deep,  I  feel  no  resentment  I  will  now  only  recall  to 
Lord  Byron's  mind  his  avowed  and  insurmountable  aversion  to 
the  married  state,  and  the  desire  and  determination  he  has 
expressed  ever  since  its  commencement  to  free  himself  from 
that  bondage,  as  finding  it  quite  insupportable,  though  can 
didly  acknowledging  that  no  effort  of  duty  or  affection  has  been 
wanting  on  my  part.  He  has  too  painfully  convinced  me  that 
all  these  attempts  to  contribute  towards  his  happiness  were 
wholly  useless,  and  most  unwelcome  to  him.  I  enclose  this 
letter  to  my  father,  wishing  it  to  receive  his  sanction. 
"  Ever  yours  most  affectionately, 

"  A.  I.  BYRON." 

We  observe  in  this  letter  that  it  is  written  to 
be  shown  to  Lady  Byron's  father,  and  receive  his 
sanction  ;  and,  as  that  father  was  in  ignorance 
of  all  the  deeper  causes  of  trouble  in  the  case,  it 
will  be  seen  that  the  letter  must  necessarily  be 


CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY   OF    EVENTS.       2QI 

a  reserved  one.  This  sufficiently  accounts  for 
the  guarded  character  of  the  language  when 
speaking  of  the  causes  of  separation.  One  part 
of  the  letter  incidentally  overthrows  Lord  By 
ron's  statement,  which  he  always  repeated  dur 
ing  his  life,  and  which  is  repeated  for  him  now  ; 
namely,  that  his  wife  forsook  him,  instead  of 
being,  as  she  claims,  expelled  by  him. 

She  recalls  to  Lord  Byron's  mind  the  "  desire 
and  determination  he  has  expressed  ever  since 
his  marriage  to  free  himself  from  its  bondage." 

This  is  in  perfect  keeping  with  the  "  absolute 
desire,"  signified  by  writing,  that  she  should 
leave  his  house  on  the  earliest  day  possible  ; 
and  she  places  the  cause  of  the  separation  on 
his  having  "  too  painfully  "  convinced  her  that 
he  does  not  want  her  —  as  a  wife. 

It  appears  that  Augusta  hesitates  to  show 
this  note  to  her  brother.  It  is  bringing  on  a 
crisis  which  she,  above  all  others,  would  most  wish 
to  avoid. 

In  the  mean  time,  Lady  Byron  receives  a  let- 


2Q2   CHRONOLOGICAL  SUMMARY  OF  EVENTS. 

ter  from  Lord  Byron,  which  makes  her  feel  it 
more  than  ever  essential  to  make  the  decision 
final.  I  have  reason  to  believe  that  this  letter 
is  preserved  in  Lady  Byron's  papers  :  — 

"  FEB.  4,  1816. 

"  I  hope,  my  dear  A.,  that  you  would  on  no  account  withhold 
from  your  brother  the  letter  which  I  sent  yesterday  in  answer 
to  yours  written  by  his  desire,  particularly  as  one  which  I  have 
received  from  himself  to-day  renders  it  still  more  important 
that  he  should  know  the  contents  of  that  addressed  to  you.  I 
am,  in  haste  and  not  very  well, 

"  Yours  most  affectionately, 

"A.  I.  BYRON." 

The  last  of  this  series  of  letters  is  less  like 
the  style,  of  Lady  Byron  than  any  of  them.  We 
cannot  judge  whether  it  is  a  whole  consecutive 
letter,  or  fragments  from  a  letter,  selected  and 
united.  There  is  a  great  want  of  that  clearness 
and  precision  which  usually  characterized  Lady 
Byron's  style.  It  shows,  however,  that  the  de 
cision  is  made,  —  a  decision  which  she  regrets 
on  account  of  the  sister  who  has  tried  so  long 
to  prevent  it. 


CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS.      2Q3 

"  KIRKBY  MALLORY,  Feb.  14,  1816. 

"The  present  sufferings  of  all  may  yet  be  repaid  in  bless 
ings.  Do  not  despair  absolutely,  dearest ;  and  leave  me  but 
enough  of  your  interest  to  afford  you  any  consolation  by  par 
taking  of  that  sorrow  which  I  am  most  unhappy  to  cause  thus 
unintentionally.  You  will  be  of  my  opinion  hereafter  ;  and  at 
present  your  bitterest  reproach  would  be  forgiven,  though 
Heaven  knows  you  have  considered  me  more  than  a  thousand 
would  have  done,  — more  than  any  thing  but  my  affection  for  B., 
one  most  dear  to  you,  could  deserve.  I  must  not  remember 
these  feelings.  Farewell !  God  bless  you  from  the  bottom  of 
my  heart  !  "  A.  I.  B." 

We  are  here  to  consider  that  Mrs.  Leigh  has 
stood  to  Lady  Byron  in  all  this  long  agony  as 
her  only  confidante  and  friend  ;  that  she  has 
denied  the  charges  her  brother  has  made,  and 
referred  them  to  insanity,  admitting  insane  at 
tempts  upon  herself  which  she  has  been  obliged 
to  watch  over  and  control. 

Lady  Byron  has  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
Augusta  is  mistaken  as  to  insanity ;  that  there 
is  a  real  wicked  purpose  and  desire  on  the  part 
of  the  brother,  not  as  yet  believed  in  by  the  sis- 


2Q4      CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS. 

ter.  She  regards  the  sister  as  one,  who,  though 
deceived  and  blinded,  is  still  worthy  of  confi 
dence  and  consideration  ;  and  so  says  to  her, 
"  You  will  be  of  my  opinion  hereafter" 

She  says,  "  You  have  considered  me  more 
than  a  thousand  would  have  done."  Mrs.  Leigh 
is,  in  Lady  Byron's  eyes,  a  most  abused  and 
innocent  woman,  who,  to  spare  her  sister  in  her 
delicate  situation,  has  taken  on  herself  the  whole 
charge  of  a  maniacal  brother,  although  suffering 
from  him  language  and  actions  of  the  most  inju 
rious  kind.  That  Mrs.  Leigh  did  not  flee  the 
house  at  once  under  such  circumstances,  and 
wholly  decline  the  management  of  the  case, 
seems  to  Lady  Byron  consideration  and  self- 
sacrifice  greater  than  she  can  acknowledge. 

The  knowledge  of  the  whole  extent  of  the 
truth  came  to  Lady  Byron's  mind  at  a  later 
period. 

We  now  take  up  the  history  from  Lushing- 
ton's  letter  to  Lady  Byron,  published  at  the 
close  of  her  statement. 


CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS.       2Q5 

The  application  to  Lord  Byron  for  an  act  of 
separation  was  positively  refused  at  first ;  it 
being  an  important  part  of  his  policy  that  all 
the  responsibility  and  insistance  should  come 
from  his  wife,  and  that  he  should  appear  forced 
into  it  contrary  to  his  will. 

Dr.  Lushington,  however,  says  to  Lady  By 
ron, — 

"  I  was  originally  consulted  by  Lady  Noel  on  your  behalf 
while  you  were  in  the  country.  The  circumstances  detailed  by 
her  were  such  as  justified  a  separation  ;  but  they  were  not  of 
that  aggravated  description  as  to  render  such  a  measure  indis 
pensable.  On  Lady  Noel's  representations,  I  deemed  a 
reconciliation  with  Lord  Byron  practicable,  and  felt  most  sin 
cerely  a  wish  to  aid  in  effecting  it.  There  was  not,  on  Lady 
Noel's  part,  any  exaggeration  of  the  facts,  nor,  so  far  as  I 
could  perceive,  any  determination  to  prevent  a  return  to  Lord 
Byron  :  certainly  none  was  expressed  when  I  spoke  of  a  recon 
ciliation." 

In  this  crisis,  with  Lord  Byron  refusing  the 
separation,  with  Lushington  expressing  a  wish 
to  aid  in  a  reconciliation,  and  Lady  Noel  not  ex 
pressing  any  aversion  to  it,  the  whole  strain  of 


296      CHRONOLOGICAL   SUMMARY   OF   EVENTS. 

the  dreadful  responsibility  comes  upon  the  wife. 
She  resolves  to  ask  counsel  of  her  lawyer,  in 
view  of  a  statement  of  the  whole  case. 

Lady  Byron  is  spoken  of  by  Lord  Byron 
(letter  233)  as  being  in  town  with  her  father  on 
the  29th  of  February  ;  viz.,  fifteen  days  after  the 
date  of  the  last  letter  to  Mrs.  Leigh.  It  must 
have  been  about  this  time,  then,  that  she  laid 
her  whole  case  before  Lushington  ;  and  he  gave 
it  a  thorough  examination. 

The  result  was,  that  Lushington  expressed  in 
the  most  decided  terms  his  conviction  that  rec 
onciliation  was  impossible.  The  language  he 
uses  is  very  striking  :  — 

"  When  you  came  to  town  in  about  a  fortnight,  or  perhaps 
more,  after  my  first  interview  with  Lady  Noel,  I  was,  for  the 
first  time,  informed  by  you  of  facts  utterly  unknown,  as  I  have 
no  doubt,  to  Sir  Ralph  and  Lady  Noel.  On  receiving  this  ad 
ditional  information,  my  opinion  was  entirely  changed.  I  con 
sidered  a  reconciliation  impossible.  I  declared  my  opinion, 
and  added,  that,  if  such  an  idea  should  be  entertained,  I  could 
not,  either  professionally  or  otherwise,  take  any  part  towards 
effecting  it." 


CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS.       2Q/ 

It  does  not  appear  in  this  note  what  effect  the 
lawyer's  examination  of  the  case  had  on  Lady 
Byron's  mind.  By  the  expressions  he  uses,  we 
should  infer  that  she  may  still  have  been  hesi 
tating  as  to  whether  a  reconciliation  might  not 
be  her  duty. 

This  hesitancy  he  does  away  with  most  deci 
sively,  saying,  "  A  reconciliation  is  impossible  ;  " 
and,  supposing  Lady  Byron  or  her  friends  desi 
rous  of  one,  he  declares  positively  that  he  can 
not,  either  professionally  as  a  lawyer  or  privately 
as  a  friend,  have  any  thing  to  do  with  effect 
ing  it. 

The  lawyer,  it  appears,  has  drawn,  from  the 
facts  of  the  case,  inferences  deeper  and  stronger 
than  those  which  presented  themselves  to  the 
mind  of  the  young  woman  ;  and  he  instructs 
her  in  the  most  absolute  terms. 

Fourteen  years  after,  in  1830,  for  the  first 
time  the  world  was  astonished  by  this  declara 
tion  from  Dr.  Lushington,  in  language  so  pro 
nounced  and  positive,  that  there  could  be  no 
mistake. 


298       CHRONOLOGICAL    SUMMARY    OF    EVENTS. 

Lady  Byron  had  stood  all  these  fourteen  years 
slandered  by  her  husband,  and  misunderstood 
by  his  friends,  when,  had  she  so  chosen,  this 
opinion  of  Dr.  Lushington's  could  have  been  at 
once  made  public,  which  fully  justified  her  con 
duct. 

If,  as  the  "Blackwood"  of  July  insinuates,  the 
story  told  to  Lushington  was  a  malignant  slan 
der,  meant  to  injure  Lord  Byron,  why  did  she 
suppress  the  judgment  of  her  counsel  at  a  time 
when  all  the  world  was  on  her  side,  and  this 
decision  would  have  been  the  decisive  blow 
against  her  husband  ?  Why,  by  sealing  the  lips 
of  counsel,  and  of  all  whom  she  could  influence, 
did  she  deprive  herself  finally  of  the  very  advan 
tage  for  which  it  has  been  assumed  she  fabri 
cated  the  story  ? 


CHAPTER    IV. 

THE    CHARACTER    OF    THE    TWO    WITNESSES 
COMPARED. 

T  T  will  be  observed,  that,  in   this   controversy, 
we  are  confronting  two  opposing  stories,  — 
one  of  Lord  and  the  other  of  Lady  Byron ;  and 
the  statements  from  each  are  in  point-blank  con 
tradiction. 

Lord  Byron  states  that  his  wife  deserted  him. 
Lady  Byron  states  that  he  expelled  her,  and  re 
minds  him,  in  her  letter  to  Augusta  Leigh,  that 
the  expulsion  was  a  deliberate  one,  and  that  he 
had  purposed  it  from  the  beginning  of  their 
marriage. 

Lord  Byron  always  stated  that  he  was  ignorant 
why  his  wife  left  him,  and  was  desirous  of  her 
return.  Lady  Byron  states  that  he  told  her  that 
he  would  force  her  to  leave  him,  and  to  leave 

299 


3OO  THE    CHARACTER   OF   THE 

him  in  such  a  way  that  the  whole  blame  of  the 
separation  should  always  rest  on  her,  and  not 
on  him. 

To  say  nothing  of  any  deeper  or  darker  accu 
sations  on  either  side,  here,  in  the  very  outworks 
of  the  story,  the  two  meet  point-blank. 

In  considering  two  opposing  stories,  we  al 
ways,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  take  into  account  the 
character  of  the  witnesses. 

If  a  person  be  literal  and  exact  in  his  usual 
modes  of  speech,  reserved,  careful,  conscientious, 
and  in  the  habit  of  observing  minutely  the  minor 
details  of  time,  place,  and  circumstances,  we  give 
weight  to  his  testimony  from  these  considera 
tions.  But  if  a  person  be  proved  to  have  singular 
and  exceptional  principles  with  regard  to  truth  ; 
if  he  be  universally  held  by  society  to  be  so  in 
the  habit  of  mystification,  that  large  allow 
ances  must  be  made  for  his  statements ;  if 
his  assertions  at  one  time  contradict  those 
made  at  another  ;  and  if  his  statements,  also, 
sometimes  come  in  collision  with  those  of  his 


TWO    WITNESSES    COMPARED.  30! 

best  friends,  so  that,  when  his  language  is  re 
ported,  difficulties  follow,  and  explanations  are 
made  necessary,  —  all  this  certainly  disqualifies 
him  from  being  considered  a  trustworthy  wit 
ness. 

All  these  disqualifications  belong  in  a  remark 
able  degree  to  Lord  Byron,  on  the  oft-repeated 
testimony  of  his  best  friends. 

We  shall  first  cite  the  following  testimony, 
given  in  an  article  from  "  Under  the  Crown," 
which  is  written  by  an  early  friend  and  ardent 
admirer  of  Lord  Byron  :  — 

"  Byron  had  one  pre-eminent  fault,  — a  fault  which  must  be 
considered  as  deeply  criminal  by  every  one  who  does  not,  as  I 
do,  believe  it  to  have  resulted  from  monomania.  He  had  a 
morbid  love  of  a  bad  reputation.  There  was  hardly  an  offence 
of  which  he  would  not,  with  perfect  indifference,  accuse  himself. 
An  old  schoolfellow  who  met  him  on  the  Continent  told  me 
that  he  would  continually  write  paragraphs  against  himself  in 
the  foreign  journals,  and  delight  in  their  republication  by  the 
English  newspapers  as  in  the  success  of  a  practical  joke. 
Whenever  anybody  has  related  any  thing  discreditable  of  Byron, 
assuring  me  that  it  must  be  true,  for  he  heard  it  from  him- 


3O2  THE    CHARACTER    OF    THE 

self,  I  always  felt  that  he  could  not  have  spoken  upon  worse 
authority  ;  and  that,  in  all  probability,  the  tale  was  a  pure  in 
vention.  If  I  could  remember,  and  were  willing  to  repeat,  the 
various  misdoings  which  I  have  from  time  to  time  heard  him 
attribute  to  himself,  I  could  fill  a  volume.  But  I  never  believed 
them.  I  very  soon  became  aware  of  this  strange  idiosyncrasy  : 
it  puzzled  me  to  account  for  it  ;  but  there  it  was,  a  sort  of  dis 
eased  and  distorted  vanity.  The  same  eccentric  spirit  would 
induce  him  to  report  things  which  were  false  with  regard  to  his 
family,  which  anybody  else  would  have  concealed,  though  true. 
He  told"  me  more  than  once  that  his  father  was  insane,  and 
killed  himself.  I  shall  never  forget  the  manner  in  which  he 
first  told  me  this.  While  washing  his  hands,  and  singing  a  gay 
Neapolitan  air,  he  stopped,  looked  round  at  me,  and  said, 
'There  always  was  madness  in  the  family.'  Then,  after  con 
tinuing  his  washing  and  his  song,  he  added,  as  if  speaking  of  a 
matter  of  the  slightest  indifference,  '  My  father  cut  his  throat.' 
The  contrast  between  the  tenor  of  the  subject  and  the  levity  of 
the  expression  was  fearfully  painful :  it  was  like  a  stanza  of 
'  Don  Juan.'  In  this  instance,  I  had  no  doubt  that  the  fact  was 
as  he  related  it ;  but  in  speaking  of  it,  only  a  few  years  since, 
to  an  old  lady  in  whom  I  had  perfect  confidence,  she  assured  me 
that  it  was  not  so.  Mr  Byron,  who  was  her  cousin,  had  been 
extremely  wild,  but  was  quite  sane,  and  had  died  very  quietly 
in  his  bed.  What  Byron's  reason  could  have  been  for  thus  ca 
lumniating  not  only  himself,  but  the  blood  which  was  flowing  in 
his  veins,  who  can  divine  ?  But,  for  some  reason  or  other,  it 


TWO    WITNESSES    COMPARED.  303 

seemed  to  be  his  determined  purpose  to  keep  himself  unknown 
to  the  great  body  of  his  fellow-creatures  ;  to  present  himself  to 
their  view  in  moral  masquerade." 

Certainly  the  character  of  Lord  Byron  here 
given  by  his  friend  is  not  the  kind  to  make  him 
a  trustworthy  witness  in  any  case  :  on  the  con 
trary,  it  seems  to  show  either  a  subtle  delight  in 
falsehood  for  falsehood's  sake,  or  else  the  wary 
artifices  of  a  man,  who,  having  a  deadly  secret 
to  conceal,  employs  many  turnings  and  windings 
to  throw  the  world  off  the  scent.  What  in 
triguer,  having  a  crime  to  cover,  could  devise 
a  more  artful  course  than  to  send  half  a  dozen 
absurd  stories  to  the  press,  which  should,  after  a 
while,  be  traced  back  to  himself,  till  the  public 
should  gradually  look  on  all  it  heard  from  him 
as  the  result  of  this  eccentric  humor  ? 

The  easy,  trifling  air  with  which  Lord  Byron 
made  to  this  friend  a  false  statement  in  regard 
to  his  father  would  lead  naturally  to  the  inquiry, 
on  what  other  subjects,  equally  important  to  the 
good  name  of  others,  he  might  give  false  testi 
mony  with  equal  indifference. 


304  THE    CHARACTER    OF    THE 

When  Medwin's  "  Conversations  with  Lord 
Byron  "  were  first  published,  they  contained  a 
number  of  declarations  of  the  noble  lord  affect 
ing  the  honor  and  honesty  of  his  friend  and 
publisher  Murray.  These  appear  to  have  been 
made  in  the  same  way  as  those  about  his 
father,  and  with  equal  indifference.  So  serious 
were  the  charges,  that  Mr.  Murray's  friends  felt 
that  he  ought,  in  justice  to  himself,  to  come  for 
ward  and  confront  them  with  the  facts  as  stated 
in  Byron's  letters  to  himself;  and  in  vol.  x., 
p.  143,  of  Murray's  standard  edition,  accord 
ingly,  these  false  statements  are  confronted  with 
the  letters  of  Lord  Byron.  The  statements,  as 
reported,  are  of  a  most  material  and  vital  nature, 
relating  to  Murray's  financial  honor  and  honesty, 
and  to  his  general  truthfulness  and  sincerity. 
In  reply,  Murray  opposes  to  them  the  accounts 
of  sums  paid  for  different  works,  and  letters 
from  Byron  exactly  contradicting  his  own  state 
ments  as  to  Murray's  character. 

The  subject,  as  we  have  seen,  was  discussed 


TWO    WITNESSES    COMPARED.  305 

in  "  The  Noctes."  No  doubt  appears  to  be  en 
tertained  that  Byron  made  the  statements  to 
Medwin  ;  and  the  theory  of  accounting  for  them 
is,  that  "  Byron  was  '  bamming '  him." 

It  seems  never  to  have  occurred  to  any  of 
these  credulous  gentlemen,  who  laughed  at  oth 
ers  for  being  "bammed,"  that  Byron  might  be 
doing  the  very  same  thing  by  themselves.  How 
many  of  his  so-called  packages  sent  to  Lady 
Byron  were  real  packages,  and  how  many  were 
mystifications  ?  We  find,  in  two  places  at  least 
in  his  Memoir,  letters  to  Lady  Byron,  written 
and  shown  to  others,  which,  he  says,  were  never 
sent  by  him.  He  told  Lady  Blessington  that  he 
was  in  the  habit  of  writing  to  her  constantly, 
Was  this  "  bamming  "  ?  Was  he  "  bamming," 
also,  when  he  told  the  world  that  Lady  Byron 
suddenly  deserted  him,  quite  to  his  surprise,  and 
that  he  never,  to  his  dying  day,  could  find  out 
why  ? 

Lady  Blessington  relates,  that,  in  one  of  his 
conversations  with  her,  he  entertained  her  by 


3O6  THE    CHARACTER    OF    THE 

repeating  epigrams  and  lampoons,  in  which 
many  of  his  friends  were  treated  with  severity. 
She  inquired  of  him,  in  case  he  should  die,  and 
such  proofs  of  his  friendship  come  before  the 
public,  what  would  be  the  feelings  of  these 
friends,  who  had  supposed  themselves  to  stand 
so  high  in  his  good  graces.  She  says,  — 

"'That,'  said  Byron,  'is  precisely  one  of  the  ideas  that 
most  amuses  me.  I  often  fancy  the  rage  and  humiliation  of 
my  quondam  friends  in  hearing  the  truth,  at  least  from  me,  for 
the  first  time,  and  when  I  am  beyond  the  reach  of  their  malice. 
.  .  .  What  grief,'  continued  Byron,  laughing,  '  could  resist 
the  charges  of  ugliness,  dulness,  or  any  of  the  thousand  name 
less  defects,  personal  or  mental,  '  that  flesh  is  heir  to,'  when 
reprisal  or  recantation  was  impossible  ?  .  .  .  People  are  in 
such  daily  habits  of  commenting  on  the  defects  of  friends,  that 
they  are  unconscious  of  the  unkindness  of  it.  ...  Now,  I 
write  down  as  well  as  speak  my  sentiments  of  those  who  think 
they  have  gulled  me  ;  and  I  only  wish,  in  case  I  die  before 
them,  that  I  might  return  to  witness  the  effects  my  posthumous 
opinions  of  them  are  likely  to  produce  in  their  minds.  What 
good  fun  this  would  be  !  ...  You  don't  seem  to  value  this 
as  you  ought,'  said  Byron  with  one  of  his  sardonic  smiles,  see 
ing  I  looked,  as  I  really  felt,  surprised  at  his  avowed  insincerity. 


TWO    WITNESSES    COMPARED.  307 

I  feel  the  same  pleasure  in  anticipating  the  rage  and  mor 
tification  of  my  soi-disant  friends  at  the  discovery  of  my  real 
sentiments  of  them  that  a  miser  may  be  supposed  to  feel  while 
making  a  will  that  will  disappoint  all  the  expectants  that  have 
been  toadying  him  for  years.  Then  how  amusing  it  will  be  to 
compare  my  posthumous  with  my  previously  given  opinions, 
the  one  throwing  ridicule  on  the  other  !  ' " 

It  is  asserted,  in  a  note  to  "  The  Noctes,"  that 
Byron,  besides  his  Autobiography,  prepared 
a  voluminous  dictionary  of  all  his  friends  and 
acquaintances,  in  which  brief  notes  of  their 
persons  and  character  were  given,  with  his 
opinion  of  them.  It  was  not  considered  that 
the  publication  of  this  would  add  to  the  noble 
lord's  popularity  ;  and  it  has  never  appeared. 

In  Hunt's  Life  of  Byron,  there  is  similar 
testimony.  Speaking  of  Byron's  carelessness 
in  exposing  his  friends'  secrets,  and  showing  or 
giving  away  their  letters,  he  says,  - 

"  If  his  five  hundred  confidants,  by  a  reticence  as  remarkable 
as  his  laxity,  had  not  kept  his  secrets  better  than  he  did  him 
self,  the  very  devil  might  have  been  played  with  I  don't  know 
how  many  people.  But  there  v/as  always  this  saving  reflection 


3O8  THE    CHARACTER    OF   THE 

to  be  made,  that  the  man  who  could  be  guilty  of  such  extrava 
gances  for  the  sake  of  making  an  impression  might  be  guilty 
of  exaggeration,  or  inventing  what  astonished  you  ;  and  indeed, 
though  he  was  a  speaker  of  the  truth  on  ordinary  occasions,  — 
that  is  to  say,  he  did  not  tell  you  he  had  seen  a  dozen  horses 
when  he  had  seen  only  two,  —  yet,  as  he  professed  not  to  value 
the  truth  when  in  the  way  of  his  advantage  (and  there  was 
nothing  he  thought  more  to  his  advantage  than  making  you 
stare  at  him),  the  persons  who  were  liable  to  suffer  from  his 
incontinence  had  all  the  right  in  the  world  to  the  benefit  of  this 
consideration."  * 

With  a  person  of  such  mental  and  moral  habits 
as  to  truth,  the  inquiry  always  must  be,  Where 
does  mystification  end,  and  truth  begin  ? 

If  a  man  is  careless  about  his  father's  reputa 
tion  for  sanity,  and  reports  him  a  crazy  suicide  ; 
if  he  gayly  accuses  his  publisher  and  good  friend 
of  double-dealing,  shuffling,  and  dishonesty  ;  if 
he  tells  stories  about  Mrs.  Clermont,f  to  which 

*  Hunt's  Byron,  p.  77.     Philadelphia,  1828. 

t  From  the  Temple-Bar  article,  October,  1860.  "  Mrs.  Leigh,  Lord 
Byron's  sister,  had  other  thoughts  of  Mrs  Clermont,  and  wrote  to  her,  offer 
ing  public  testimony  to  her  tenderness  and  forbearance  under  circumstances 
which  must  have  been  trying  to  any  friend  of  Lady  Byron."  —  Campbell,  in 
the  New  Monthly  Magazine,  1830,  p.  380. 


TWO   WITNESSES    COMPARED.  309 

his  sister  offers  a  public  refutation,  —  is  it  to  be 
supposed  that  he  will  always  tell  the  truth  about 
his  wife,  when  the  world  is  pressing  him  hard, 
and  every  instinct  of  self-defence  is  on  the  alert  ? 

And  then  the  ingenuity  that  could  write  and 
publish  false  documents  about  himself,  that  they 
might  re-appear  in  London  papers,  —  to  what 
other  accounts  might  it  not  be  turned  ?  Might 
it  not  create  documents,  invent  statements, 
about  his  wife  as  well  as  himself? 

The  document  so  ostentatiously  given  to  M. 
G.  Lewis  "for  circulation  among  friends  in  Eng 
land  "  was  a  specimen  of  what  the  Noctes  Club 
would  call  "  bamming." 

If  Byron  wanted  a  legal  investigation,  why 
did  he  not  take  it  in  the  first  place,  instead  of 
signing  the  separation  ?  If  he  wanted  to  cancel 
it,  as  he  said  in  this  document,  why  did  he  not 
go  to  London,  and  enter  a  suit  for  the  restitution 
of  conjugal  rights,  or  a  suit  in  chancery  to  get 
possession  of  his  daughter  ?  That  this  was  in 
his  mind,  passages  in  Medwin's  Conversations 


3IO  THE    CHARACTER    OF    THE 

show.  He  told  Lady  Blessington  also  that  he 
might  claim  his  daughter  in  chancery  at  any  time. 

Why  did  he  not  do  it  ?  Either  of  these  two 
steps  would  have  brought  on  that  public  inves 
tigation  he  so  longed  for.  Can  it  be  possible 
that  all  the  friends  who  passed  this  private  docu 
ment  from  hand  to  hand  never  suspected  that 
they  were  being  "bammed  "  by  it? 

But  it  has  been  universally  assumed,  that 
though  Byron  was  thus  remarkably  given  to 
mystification,  yet  all  his  statements  in  regard  to 
this  story  are  to  be  accepted,  simply  because  he 
makes  them.  Why  must  we  accept  them,  any 
more  than  his  statements  as  to  Murray  or  his 
own  father  ? 

So  we  constantly  find  Lord  Byron's  incidental 
statements  coming  in  collision  with  those  of  oth 
ers  :  for  example,  in  his  account  of  his  marriage, 
he  tells  Medwin  that  Lady  Byron's  maid  was  put 
between  his  bride  and  himself,  on  the  same  seat, 
in  the  wedding-journey.  The  lady's  maid  her 
self,  Mrs.  Minns,  says  she  was  sent  before  them 


TWO    WITNESSES    COMPARED.  3  I  I 

to    Halnaby,  and  was    there    to   receive    them 
when  they  alighted. 

He  said  of  Lady  Byron's  mother,  "  She  al 
ways  detested  me,  and  had  not  the  decency  to 
conceal  it  in  her  own  house.  Dining  with  her 
one  clay,  I  broke  a  tooth,  and  was  in  great  pain; 
which  I  could  not  help  showing.  '  It  will  do 
you  good/  said  Lady  Noel.  '  I  am  glad  of  it ! " 

Lady  Byron  says,  speaking  of  her  mother, 
"  She  always  treated  him  with  an  affectionate 
consideration  and  indulgence,  which  extended 
to  every  little  peculiarity  of  his  feelings.  Never 
did  an  irritating  word  escape  her." 

Lord  Byron  states  that  the  correspondence 
between  him  and  Lady  Byron,  after  his  refusal, 
was  first  opened  by  her.  Lady  Byron's  friends 
deny  the  statement,  and  assert  that  the  direct 
contrary  is  the  fact. 

Thus  we  see  that  Lord  Byron's  statements 
are  directly  opposed  to  those  of  his  family  in 
relation  to  his  father  ;  directly  against  Murray's 
accounts,  and  his  own  admission  to  Murray  ; 


312  THE   CHARACTER    OF    THE 

directly  against  the  statement  of  the  lady's  maid 
as  to  her  position  in  the  journey ;  directly 
against  Mrs.  Leigh's  as  to  Mrs.  Clermont,  and 
against  Lady  Byron  as  to  her  mother. 

We  can  see,  also,  that  these  misstatements 
were  so  fully  perceived  by  the  men  of  his  times, 
that  Medwin's  Conversations  were  simply 
laughed  at  as  an  amusing  instance  of  how  far  a 
man  might  be  made  the  victim  of  a  mystification. 
Christopher  North  thus  sentences  the  book  :  — 

"  I  don't  mean  to  call  Medwin  a  liar.  .  .  .  The  captain 
lies,  sir;  but  it  is  under  a  thousand  mistakes.  Whether  Byron 
bammed  him,  or  he,  by  virtue  of  his  own  egregious  stupidity, 
was  the  sole  and  sufficient  bammifier  of  himself,  I  know  not ; 
neither  greatly  do  I  care.  This  much  is  certain,  .  .  .  that  the 
book  throughout  is  full  of  things  that  were  not,  and  most  re- 
splendently  deficient  quoad the  things  that  were." 

Yet  it  is  on  Medwin's  Conversations  alone  that 
many  of  the  magazine  assertions  in  regard  to 
Lady  Byron  are  founded. 

It  is  on  that  authority  that  Lady  Byron  is 
accused  of  breaking  open  her  husband's  writing- 


TWO    WITNESSES    COMPARED.  313 

desk  in  his  absence,  and  sending  the  letters  she 
found  there  to  the  husband  of  a  lady  compro 
mised  by  them  ;  and  likewise  that  Lord  Byron 
is  declared  to  have  paid  back  his  wife's  ten- 
thousand-pound  wedding-portion,  and  doubled 
it.  Moore  makes  no  such  statements  ;  and  his 
remarks  about  Lord  Byron's  use  of  his  wife's 
money  are  unmistakable  evidence  to  the  con 
trary.  Moore,  although  Byron's  ardent  partisan, 
was  too  well  informed  to  make  assertions  with 
regard  to  him,  which,  at  that  time,  it  would  have 
been  perfectly  easy  to  refute. 

All  these  facts  go  to  show  that  Lord  Byron's 
character  for  accuracy  or  veracity  was  not  such 
as  to  entitle  him  to  ordinary  confidence  as  a 
witness,  especially  in  a  case  where  he  had  the 
strongest  motives  for  misstatement. 

And  if  we  consider  that  the  celebrated  Auto 
biography  was  the  finished,  careful  work  of  such 
a  practised  "  mystifier,"  who  can  wonder  that  it 
presented  a  web  of  such  intermingled  truth  and 
lies,  that  there  was  no  such  thing  as  disen- 


314  THE    CHARACTER   OF   THE 

tangling  it,  and   pointing   out  where  falsehood 
ended,  and  truth  began  ? 

But,  in  regard  to  Lady  Byron,  what  has  been 
the  universal  impression  of  the  world  ?  It  has 
been  alleged  against  her  that  she  was  a  precise, 
straightforward  woman,  so  accustomed  to  plain, 
literal  dealings,  that  she  could  not  understand 
the  various  mystifications  of  her  husband  ;  and 
that  from  that  cause  arose  her  unhappiness. 
Byron  speaks,  in  "  The  Sketch,"  of  her  peculiar 
truthfulness  ;  and  even  in  the  "  Clytemnestra  " 
poem,  when  accusing  her  of  lying,  he  speaks  of 
her  as  departing  from 

"  The  early  truth  that  was  her  proper  praise." 

Lady  Byron's  careful  accuracy  as  to  dates,  to 
time,  place,  and  circumstances,  will  probably 
be  vouched  for  by  all  the  very  large  number  of 
persons  whom  the  management  of  her  extended 
property  and  her  works  of  benevolence  brought 
to  act  as  co-operators  or  agents  with  her.  She 
was  not  a  person  in  the  habit  of  making  exag- 


TWO    WITNESSES    COMPARED.  315 

gerated  or  ill-considered  statements.  Her  pub 
lished  statement  of  1830  is  clear,  exact,  accurate, 
and  perfectly  intelligible.  The  dates  are  careful 
ly  ascertained  and  stated,  the  expressions  are 
moderate,  and  all  the  assertions  firm  and  perfect 
ly  definite. 

It  therefore  seems  remarkable  that  the  whole 
reasoning  on  this  Byron  matter  has  generally 
been  conducted  by  assuming  all  Lord  Byron's 
statements  to  be  true,  and  requiring  all  Lady 
Byron's  statements  to  be  sustained  by  other 
evidence. 

If  Lord  Byron  asserts  that  his  wife  deserted 
him,  the  assertion  is  accepted  without  proof; 
but,  if  Lady  Byron  asserts  that  he  ordered  her 
to  leave,  that  requires  proof.  Lady  Byron  asserts 
that  she  took  counsel,  on  this  order  of  Lord 
Byron,  with  his  family  friends  and  physician, 
under  the  idea  that  it  originated  in  insanity. 
The  "  Blackwood  "  asks,  "  What  family  friends  ?  " 
says  it  doesn't  know  of  any  ;  and  asks  proof. 

If  Lord  Byron  asserts  that  he  always  longed 


3l6  THE    CHARACTER    OF    THE 

for  a  public  investigation  of  the  charges  against 
him,  the  "  Quarterly  "  and  "  Blackwood  "  quote 
the  saying  with  ingenuous  confidence.  They 
are  obliged  to  admit  that  he  refused  to  stand 
that  public  test  ;  that  he  signed  the  deed  of 
separation  rather  than  meet  it.  They  know, 
also,  that  he  could  have  at  any  time  instituted 
suits  against  Lady  Byron  that  would  have 
brought  the  whole  matter  into  court,  and  that  he 
did  not.  Why  did  he  not?  The  "Quarterly" 
simply  intimates  that  such  suits  would  have 
been  unpleasant.  Why  ?  On  account  of  per 
sonal^  delicacy  ?  The  man  that  wrote  "  Don 
Juan,"  and  furnished  the  details  of  his  wedding- 
night,  held  back  from  clearing  his  name  by 
delicacy  !  It  is  astonishing  to  what  extent  this 
controversy  has  consisted  in  simply  repeating 
Lord  Byron's  assertions  over  and  over  again,  and 
calling  the  result  proof. 

Now,  we  propose  a  different  course.  As 
Lady  Byron  is  not  stated  by  her  warm  admirers 
to  have  had  any  monomania  for  speaking  un- 


TWO    WITNESSES    COMPARED.  3  I  > 

truths  on  any  subject,  we  rank  her  value  as  a 
witness  at  a  higher  rate  than  Lord  Byron's. 
She  never  accused  her  parents  of  madness  or 
suicide,  merely  to  make  a  sensation  ;  never 
"  bammed  "  an  acquaintance  by  false  statements 
concerning  the  commercial  honor  of  any  one 
with  whom  she  was  in  business  relations  ;  never 
wrote  and  sent  to  the  press  as  a  clever  jest  false 
statements  about  herself;  and  never,  in  any 
other  .ingenious  way,  tampered  with  truth.  We 
therefore  hold  it  to  be  a  mere  dictate  of  reason 
and  common  sense,  that,  in  all  cases  where  her 
statements  conflict  with  her  husband's,  hers  are 
to  be  taken  as  the  more  trustworthy. 

"  The  London  Quarterly,"  in  a  late  article, 
distinctly  repudiates  Lady  Byron's  statements 
as  sources  of  evidence,  and  throughout  quotes 
statements  of  Lord  Byron  as  if  they  had  the 
force  of  self-evident  propositions.  We  con 
sider  such  a  course  contrary  to  common  sense 
as  well  as  common  good  manners. 

The  state  of  the  case  is  just  this  :    If  Lord 


318  THE    CHARACTER    OF    THE 

.Byron  did  not  make  false  statements  on  this 
subject,  it  was  certainly  an  exception  to  his 
usual  course.  He  certainly  did  make  such  on  a 
great  variety  of  other  subjects.  By  his  own 
showing,  he  had  a  peculiar  pleasure  in  falsify 
ing  language,  and  in  misleading  and  betraying 
even  his  friends. 

But,  if  Lady  Byron  gave  false  witness  upon 
this  subject,  it  was  an  exception  to  the  whole 
course  of  her  life. 

The  habits  of  her  mind,  the  government  of 
her  conduct,  her  life-long  reputation,  all  were 
those  of  a  literal,  exact  truthfulness. 

The  accusation  of  her  being  untruthful  was 
first  brought  forward  by  her  husband  in  the 
"  Clytemnestra "  poem,  in  the  autumn  of  1816; 
but  it  never  was  publicly  circulated  till  after  his 
death,  and  it  was  first  formally  made  the  basis 
of  a  published  attack  on  Lady  Byron  in  the  July 
"  Blackwood "  of  1869.  Up  to  that  time,  we 
look  in  vain  through  current  literature  for  any 
indications  that  the  world  regarded  Lady  Byron 


TWO    WITNESSES    COMPARED.  319 

otherwise  than  as  a  cold,  careful,  prudent  wo 
man,  who  made  no  assertions,  and  had  no  confi 
dants.  When  she  spoke  in  1830,  it  is  perfectly 
evident  that  Christopher  North  and  his  circle 
believed  what  she  said,  though  reproving  her  for 
saying  it  at  all. 

The  "  Quarterly  "  goes  on  to  heap  up  a  num 
ber  of  vague  assertions,  —  that  Lady  Byron, 
about  the  time  of  her  separation,  made  a  confidant 
of  a  young  officer  ;  that  she  told  the  clergyman 
of  Ham  of  some  trials  with  Lord  Ockham ;  and 
that  she  told  stories  of  different  things  at  differ 
ent  times. 

All  this  is  not  proof:  it  is  mere  assertion, 
and  assertion  made  to  produce  prejudice.  It  is 
like  raising  a  whirlwind  of  sand  to  blind  the 
eyes  that  are  looking  for  landmarks.  It  is  quite 
probable  Lady  Byron  told  different  stories  about 
Lord  Byron  at  various  times.  No  woman  could 
have  a  greater  variety  of  stories  to  tell  ;  and  no 
woman  ever  was  so  persecuted  and  pursued 
and  harassed,  both  by  public  literature  and  pri- 


32O  THE    CHARACTER    OF    THE 

vate  friendship,  to  say  something.  She  had 
plenty  of  causes  for  a  separation,  without  the  fatal 
and  final  one.  In  her  conversations  with  Lady 
Anne  Barnard,  for  example,  she  gives  reasons 
enough  for  a  separation,  though  none  of  them 
are  the  chief  one.  It  is  not  different  stories, 
but  contradictory  stories,  that  must  be  relied  on 
to  disprove  the  credibility  of  a  witness.  The 
"  Quarterly  "  has  certainly  told  a  great  number  of 
different  stories,  —  stories  which  may  prove  as 
irreconcilable  with  each  other  as  any  attributed 
to  Lady  Byron  ;  but  its  denial  of  all  weight  to 
her  testimony  is  simply  begging  the  whole  ques 
tion  under  consideration. 

A  man  gives  testimony  about  the  causes  of  a 
railroad  accident,  being  the  only  eye-witness. 

The  opposing  counsel  begs,  whatever  else  you 
do,  you  will  not  admit  that  man's  testimony. 
You  ask,  "  Why  ?  Has  he  ever  been  accused  of 
want  of  veracity  on  other  subjects  ?  "  —  "  No  :  he 
has  stood  high  as  a  man  of  probity  and  honor 
for  years."  —  "  Why,  then,  throw  out  his  testi 
mony  ? " 


TWO    WITNESSES    COMPARED.  321 

"  Because  he  lies  in  this  instance,"  says  the 
adversary  :  "  his  testimony  does  not  agree  with 
this  and  that."  —  "  Pardon  me,  that  is  the  very 
point  in  question,"  say  you  :  "  we  expect  to  prove 
that  it  does  agree  with  this  and  that," 

Because  certain  letters  of  Lady  Byron's  do 
not  agree  with  the  "  Quarterly's "  theory  of 
the  facts  of  the  separation,  it  at  once  assumes 
that  she  is  an  untruthful  witness,  and  proposes 
to  throw  out  her  evidence  altogether. 

We  propose,  on  the  contrary,  to  regard  Lady 
Byron's  evidence  with  all  the  attention  due  to 
the  statement  of  a  high-minded,  conscientious 
person,  never  in  any  other  case  accused  of  vio 
lation  of  truth  ;  we  also  propose  to  show  it  to 
be  in  strict  agreement  with  all  well-authenti 
cated  facts  and  documents  ;  and  we  propose  to 
treat  Lord  Byron's  evidence  as  that  of  a  man  of 
great  subtlety,  versed  in  mystification  and  de 
lighting  in  it,  and  who,  on  many  other  subjects, 
not  only  deceived,  but  gloried  in  deception  ; 
and  then  we  propose  to  show  that  it  contra- 


322  THE    CHARACTER   OF   THE 

diets  well-established  facts  and  received  docu 
ments. 

One  thing  more  we  have  to  say  concerning 
the  laws  of  evidence  in  regard  to  documents 
presented  in  this  investigation. 

This  is  not  a  London  West-End  affair,  but  a 
grave  historical  inquiry,  in  which  the  whole 
English-speaking  world  are  interested  to  know 
the  truth. 

As  it  is  now  too  late  to  have  the  securities  of 
a  legal  trial,  certainly  the  rules  of  historical 
evidence  should  be  strictly  observed.  All  im 
portant  documents  should  be  presented  in  an 
entire  state,  with  a  plain  and  open  account  of 
their  history,  —  who  had  them,  where  they  were 
found,  and  how  preserved. 

There  have  been  most  excellent,  credible,  and 
authentic  documents  produced  in  this  case  ;  and, 
as  a  specimen  of  them,  we  shall  mention  Lord 
Lindsay's  letter,  and  the  journal  and  letter  it 
authenticates.  Lord  Lindsay  at  once  comes 
forward,  gives  his  name  boldly,  gives  the  history 


TWO    WITNESSES    COMPARED.  323 

of  the  papers  he  produces,  shows  how  they  came 
to  be  in  his  hands,  why  never  produced  before, 
and  why  now.  We  feel  confidence  at  once. 

But,  in  regard  to  the  important  series  of  letters 
presented  as  Lady  Byron's,  this  obviously  proper 
course  has  not  been  pursued.  Though  assumed 
to  be  of  the  most  critical  importance,  no  such 
distinct  history  of  them  was  given  in  the  first 
instance.  The  want  of  such  evidence  being 
noticed  by  other  papers,  the  "  Quarterly "  ap 
pears  hurt  that  the  high  character  of  the  maga 
zine  has  not  been  a  sufficient  guaranty ;  and 
still  deals  in  vague  statements  that  the  letters 
have  been  freely  circulated,  and  that  two  noble 
men  of  the  highest  character  would  vouch  for 
them  if  necessary. 

In  our  view,  it  is  necessary.  These  noblemen 
should  imitate  Lord  Lindsay's  example,  —  give 
a  fair  account  of  these  letters,  under  their  own 
names  ;  and  then,  we  would  add,  it  is  needful  for 
complete  satisfaction  to  have  the  letters  entire, 
and  not  in  fragments. 


324  THE    TWO    WITNESSES    COMPARED. 

The  "  Quarterly  "  gave  these  letters  with  the 
evident  implication  that  they  are  entirely  de 
structive  to  Lady  Byron's  character  as  a  wit 
ness.  Now,  has  that  magazine  much  reason 
to  be  hurt  at  even  an  insinuation  on  its  own 
character  when  making  such  deadly  assaults  on 
that  of  another  ?  The  individuals  who  bring 
forth  documents  that  they  suppose  to  be  deadly 
to  the  character  of  a  noble  person,  always  in  her 
generation  held  to  be  eminent  for  virtue,  cer 
tainly  should  not  murmur  at  being  called  upon 
to  substantiate  these  documents  in  the  manner 
usually  expected  in  historical  investigations. 

We  have  shown  that  these  letters  do  not  con 
tradict,  but  that  they  perfectly  confirm  the  facts, 
and  agree  with  the  dates  in  Lady  Byron's  pub 
lished  statements  of  1830;  and  this  is  our 
reason  for  deeming  them  authentic. 

These  considerations  with  regard  to  the  man 
ner  of  conducting  the  inquiry  seem  so  obviously 
proper,  that  we  cannot  but  believe  that  they  will 
command  a  serious  attention. 


CHAPTER  V. 

THE  DIRECT  ARGUMENT  TO  PROVE  THE  CRIME. 

\T  ^E  shall  now  proceed  to  state  the  argu 
ment  against  Lord  Byron. 

ist,  There  is  direct  evidence  that  Lord  Byron 
was  guilty  of  some  unusual  immorality. 

The  evidence  is  .not,  as  the  "  Blackwood " 
says,  that  Lushington  yielded  assent  to  the  ex 
parte  statement  of  a  client ;  nor,  as  the  "  Quar 
terly"  intimates,  that  he  was  affected  by  the 
charms  of  an  attractive  young  woman. 

The  first  evidence  of  it  is  the  fact  that 
Lushington  and  Romilly  offered  to  take  the 
case  into  court,  and  make  there  a  public  exhibi 
tion  of  the  proofs  on  which  their  convictions 
were  founded. 

2d,  It  is  very  strong  evidence  of  this  fact, 

325 


326  THE    DIRECT    ARGUMENT 

that  Lord  Byron,  while  loudly  declaring  that  he 
wished  to  know  with  what  he  was  charged,  de 
clined  this  open  investigation,  and,  rather  than 
meet  it,  signed  a  paper  which  he  had  before 
refused  to  sign. 

3d,  It  is  also  strong  evidence  of  this  fact,  that 
although  secretly  declaring  to  all  his  intimate 
friends  that  he  still  wished  open  investigation  in 
a  court  of  justice,  and  affirming  his  belief  that 
his  character  was  being  ruined  for  want  of  it,  he 
never  afterwards  took  the  means  to  get  it.  In 
stead  of  writing  a  private  handbill,  he  might 
have  come  to  England  and  entered  a  suit ;  and 
he  did  not  do  it. 

That  Lord  Byron  was  conscious  of  a  great 
crime  is  further  made  probable  by  the  peculiar 
malice  he  seemed  to  bear  to  his  wife's  legal 
counsel. 

If  there  had  been  nothing  to  fear  in  that  legal 
investigation  wherewith  they  threatened  him, 
why  did  he  not  only  flee  from  it,  but  regard  with 
a  peculiar  bitterness  those  who  advised  and  pro- 


TO    PROVE   THE   CRIME. 

posed  it  ?  To  an  innocent  man  falsely  accused, 
the  certainties  of  law  are  a  blessing  and  a  ref 
uge.  Female  charms  cannot  mislead  in  a  court 
of  justice  ;  and  the  atrocities  of  rumor  are  there 
sifted,  and  deprived  of  power.  A  trial  is  not  a 
threat  to  an  innocent  man  :  it  is  an  invitation, 
an  opportunity.  Why,  then,  did  he  hate  Sir 
Samuel  Romilly,  so  that  he  exulted  like  a 
fiend  over  his  tragical  death  ?  The  letter  in 
which  he  pours  forth  this  malignity  was  so 
brutal,  that  Moore  was  obliged,  by  the  general 
outcry  of  society,  to  suppress  it.  Is  this  the  lan 
guage  of  an  innocent  man  who  has  been  offered 
a  fair  trial  under  his  country's  laws  ?  or  of  a  guil 
ty  man,  to  whom  the  very  idea  of  public  trial 
means  public  exposure  ? 

4th,  It  is  probable  that  the  crime  was  the  one 
now  alleged,  because  that  was  the  most  impor 
tant  crime  charged  against  him  by  rumor  at 
the  period.  This  appears  by  the  following  ex 
tract  of  a  letter  from  Shelley,  furnished  by  the 
"Quarterly,"  dated  Bath,  Sept.  29,  1816 :  — 


328  THE    DIRECT    ARGUMENT 

"  I  saw  Kinnaird,  and  had  a  long  talk  with  him.  He  informed 
me  that  Lady  Byron  was  now  in  perfect  health  ;  that  she  was 
living  with  your  sister.  I  felt  much  pleasure  from  this  intelli 
gence.  I  consider  the  latter  part  of  it  as  affording  a  decisive 
contradiction  to  the  only  important  calumny  that  ever  was  ad 
vanced  against  you.  On  this  ground,  at  least,  it  will  become 
the  world  hereafter  to  be  silent." 

It  appears  evident  here  that  the  charge  of 
improper  intimacy  with  his  sister  was,  in  the 
mind  of  Shelley,  the  only  important  one  that 
had  yet  been  made  against  Lord  Byron. 

It  is  fairly  inferable,  from  Lord  Byron's  own 
statements,  that  his  family  friends  believed  this 
charge.  Lady  Byron  speaks,  in  her  statement, 
of  "  nearest  relatives "  and  family  friends  who 
were  cognizant  of  Lord  Byron's  strange  conduct 
at  the  time  of  the  separation  ;  and  Lord  Byron, 
in  the  letter  to  Bowles,  before  quoted,  says  that 
every  one  of  his  relations,  except  his  sister,  fell 
from  him  in  this  crisis  like  leaves  from  a  tree  in 
autumn.  There  was,  therefore,  not  only  this 
report,  but  such  appearances  in  support  of  it  as 


TO    PROVE    THE    CRIME.         .  329 

convinced  those  nearest  to  the  scene,  and  best 
apprised  of  the  facts  ;  so  that  they  fell  from  him 
entirely,  notwithstanding  the  strong  influence  of 
family  feeling.  The  Guiccioli  book  also  men 
tions  this  same  allegation  as  having  arisen  from 
peculiarities  in  Lord  Byron's  manner  of  treating 
his  sister :  — 

"  This  deep,  fraternal  affection  assumed  at  times,  under  the 
influence  of  his  powerful  genius,  and  under  exceptional  circum 
stances,  an  almost  too  passionate  expression,  which  opened  a 
fresh  field  to  his  enemies."  * 

It  appears,  then,  that  there  was  nothing  in  the 
character  of  Lord  Byron  and  of  his  sister,  as 
they  appeared  before  their  generation,  that  pre 
vented  such  a  report  from  arising  :  on  the  con 
trary,  there  was  something  in  their  relations  that 
made  it  seem  probable.  And  it  appears  that 
his  own  family  friends  were  so  affected  by  it, 
that  they,  with  one  accord,  deserted  him.  The 
"  Quarterly  "  presents  the  fact,  that  Lady  Byron 
went  to  visit  Mrs.  Leigh  at  this  time,  as  triumph- 

*  My  Recollections,  p.  238. 


33°  THE    DIRECT    ARGUMENT 

ant  proof  that  she  did  not  then  believe  it.  Can 
the  "Quarterly"  show  just  what  Lady  Byron's 
state  of  mind  was,  or  what  her  motives  were,  in 
making  that  visit  ? 

The  "  Quarterly "  seems  to  assume,  that  no 
woman,  without  gross  hypocrisy,  can  stand  by 
a  sister  proven  to  have  been  guilty.  We  can 
appeal  on  this  subject  to  all  women.  We  fear 
lessly  ask  any  wife,  "  Supposing  your  husband 
and  sister  were  involved  together  in  an  infamous 
crime,  and  that  you  were  the  mother  of  a  young 
daughter  whose  life  would  be  tainted  by  a  knowl 
edge  of  that  .crime,  what  would  be  your  wish  ? 
Would  you  wish  to  proclaim  it  forthwith  ?  or 
would  you  wish  quietly  to  separate  from  your 
husband,  and  to  cover  the  crime  from  the  eye 
of  man  ? " 

It  has  been  proved  that  Lady  Byron  did  not 
reveal  this  even  to  her  nearest  relatives.  It  is 
proved  that  she  sealed  the  mouths  of  her  coun 
sel,  and  even  of  servants,  so  effectually,  that  they 
remain  sealed  even  to  this  day.  This  is  evidence 


TO    PROVE    THE    CRIME.  33! 

that  she  did  not  wish  the  thing  known.  It  is 
proved  also,  that,  in  spite  of  her  secrecy  with 
her  parents  and  friends,  the  rumor  got  out,  and 
was  spoken  of  by  Shelley  as  the  only  important 
one. 

Now,  let  us  see  how  this  note,  cited  by  the 
"  Quarterly,"  confirms  one  of  Lady  Byron's  own 
statements.  She  says  to  Lady  Anne  Barnard,  — 

"  I  trust  you  understand  my  wishes,  which  never  were  to 
injure  Lord  Byron  in  any  way  :  for,  though  he  would  not  suffer 
me  to  remain  his  wife,  he  cannot  prevent  me  from  continuing  his 
friend ;  and  it  was  from  considering  myself  as  such  that  I  silenced 
tJie  accusations  by  which  my  own  conduct  might  have  been  more 
fully  justified" 

How  did  Lady  Byron  silence  accusations  f 
First,  by  keeping  silence  to  her  nearest  relatives  ; 
second,  by  shutting  the  mouths  of  servants  ; 
third,  by  imposing  silence  on  her  friends, — as 
Lady  Anne  Barnard  ;  fourth,  by  silencing  her 
legal  counsel  ;  fifth,  and  most  entirely,  by 
treating  Mrs.  Leigh,  before  the  world,  with  un 
altered  kindness.  In  the  midst  of  the  rumors, 


332  THE    DIRECT    ARGUMENT 

Lady  Byron  went  to  visit  her  ;  and  Shelley  says 
that  the  movement  was  effectual.  Can  the 
"  Quarterly"  prove,  that,  at  this  time,  Mrs.  Leigh 
had  not  confessed  all,  and  thrown  herself  on 
Lady  Byron's  mercy  ? 

It  is  not  necessary  to  suppose  great  horror 
and  indignation  on  the  part  of  Lady  Byron. 
She  may  have  regarded  her  sister  as  the  victim 
of  a  most  singularly  powerful  tempter.  Lord 
Byron,  as  she  knew,  had  tried  to  corrupt  her  own 
morals  and  faith.  He  had  obtained  a  power  over 
some  women,  even  in  the  highest  circles  in  Eng 
land,  which  had  led  them  to  forego  the  usual 
decorums  of  their  sex,  and  had  given  rise  to 
great  scandals.  He  was  a  being  of  wonderful 
personal  attractions.  He  had  not  only  strong 
poetical,  but  also  strong  logical  power.  He  was 
daring  in  speculation,  and  vigorous  in  sophistical 
argument  ;  beautiful,  dazzling,  and  possessed  of 
magnetic  power  of  fascination.  His  sister  had 
been  kind  and  considerate  to  Lady  Byron  when 
Lord  Byron  was  brutal  and  cruel.  She  had  been 


TO    PROVE   THE    CRIME.  333 

overcome  by  him,  as  a  weaker  nature  sometimes 
sinks  under  the  force  of  a  stronger  one  ;  and 
Lady  Byron  may  really  have  considered  her  to 
be  more  sinned  against  than  sinning. 

Lord  Byron,  if  we  look  at  it  rightly,  did  not 
corrupt  Mrs.  Leigh  any  more  than  he  did  the 
whole  British  public.  They  rebelled  at  the  im 
morality  of  his  conduct  and  the  obscenity  of  his 
writings ;  and  he  resolved  that  they  should  ac 
cept  both.  And  he  made  them  do  it.  At  first, 
they  execrated  "  Don  Juan."  Murray  was  afraid 
to  publish  it.  Women  were  determined  not  to 
read  it.  In '1819,  Dr.  William  Maginn  of  the 
Noctes  wrote  a  song  against  it  in  the  following 
virtuous  strain  :  — 

•"  Be  '  Juan,'  then,  unseen,  unknown  ; 

It  must,  or  we  shall  rue  it. 
We  may  have  virtue  of  our  own  : 

Ah  !  why  should  we  undo  it  ? 
The  treasured  faith  of  days  long  past 

We  still  would  prize  o'er  any, 
And  grieve  to  hear  the  ribald  jeer 

Of  scamps  like  Don  Giovanni." 


334  THE    DIRECT    ARGUMENT 

Lord  Byron  determined  to  conquer  the  virtu 
ous  scruples  of  the  Noctes  Club  ;  and  so  we  find 
this  same  Dr.  William  Maginn,  who  in  1819 
wrote  so  valiantly,  in  1822  declaring  that  he  would 
rather  have  written  a  page  of  "  Don  Juan  "  than 
a  ton  of  "  Childe  Harold."  All  English  morals 
were,  in  like  manner,  formally  surrendered  to 
Lord  Byron.  Moore  details  his  adulteries  in 
Venice  with  unabashed  particularity :  artists 
send  for  pictures  of  his  principal  mistresses  ;  the 
literary  world  call  for  biographical  sketches 
of  their  points  ;  Moore  compares  his  wife  and  his 
last  mistress  in  a  neatly-turned  sentence  ;  and 
yet  the  professor  of  morals  in  Edinburgh  Uni 
versity  recommends  the  biography  as  pure,  and 
having  no  mud  in  it.  The  mistress  is  lion 
ized  in  London,  and  in  1869  is  introduced  to 
the  world  of  letters  by  "  Blackwood,"  and  bid, 
"  without  a  blush,  to  say  she  loved  "  — 

This  much  being  done  to  all  England,  it  is 
quite  possible  that  a  woman  like  Lady  Byron, 
standing  silently  aside  and  surveying  the  course 


TO    PROVE    THE    CRIME.  335 

of  things,  may  have  thought  that  Mrs.  Leigh 
was  no  more  seduced  than  all  the  rest  of  the 
world,  and  have  said,  as  we  feel  disposed  to  say 
of  that  generation,  and  of  a  good  many  in  this, 
"  Let  him  that  is  without  sin  among  you  cast 
the  first  stone." 

The  peculiar  bitterness  of  remorse  expressed 
in  his  works  by  Lord  Byron  is  a  further  evi 
dence  that  he  had  committed  an  unusual  crime. 
We  are  aware  that  evidence  cannot  be  drawn 
in  this  manner  from  an  author's  works  merely, 
if  unsupported  by  any  external  probability.  For 
example,  the  subject  most  frequently  and  power 
fully  treated  by  Hawthorne  is  the  influence  of  a 
secret,  unconfessed  crime  on  the  soul :  neverthe 
less,  as  Hawthorne  is  well  known  to  have  al 
ways  lived  a  pure  and  regular  life,  nobody  has  ever 
suspected  him  of  any  greater  sin  than  a  vigorous 
imagination.  But  here  is  a  man  believed  guilty 
of  an  uncommon  immorality  by  the  two  best 
lawyers  in  England,  and  threatened  with  an 
open  exposure,  which  he  does  not  dare  to  meet. 


336  THE    DIRECT    ARGUMENT 

The  crime  is  named  in  society ;  his  own  relations 
fall  away  from  him  on  account  of  it ;  it  is  only 
set  at  rest  by  the  heroic  conduct  of  his  wife. 
Now,  this  man  is  stated  by  many  of  his  friends 
to  have  had  all  the  appearance  of  a  man  se 
cretly  laboring  under  the  consciousness  of  crime. 
Moore  speaks  of  this  propensity  in  the  following 
language : — 

"  I  have  known  him  more  than  once,  as  we  sat  together  after 
dinner,  and  he  was  a  little  under  the  influence  of  wine,  to  fall 
seriously  into  this  dark,  self-accusing  mood,  and  throw  out 
hints  of  his  past  life  with  an  air  of  gloom  and  mystery  designed 
evidently  to  awaken  curiosity  and  interest." 

Moore  says  that  it  was  his  own  custom  to  dis 
pel  these  appearances  by  ridicule,  to  which  his 
friend  was  keenly  alive.  And  he  goes  on  to 

say, — 

"  It  has  sometimes  occurred  to  me,  that  the  occult  causes  of 
his  lady's  separation  from  him,  round  which  herself  and  her 
legal  adviser  have  thrown  such  formidable  mystery,  may  have 
been  nothing  more  than  some  imposture  of  this  kind,  some 
dimly-hinted  confession  of  undefined  horror,  which,  though  in- 


TO    PROVE    THE    CRIME.  337 

tended  by  the  relater  to  mystify  and  surprise,  the  hearer  so  little 
understood  as  to  take  in  sober  seriousness."  * 

All  we  have  to  say  is,  that  Lord  Byron's  con 
duct  in  this  respect  is  exactly  what  might  have 
been  expected  if  he  had  a  crime  on  his  con 
science. 

The  energy  of  remorse  and  despair  expressed 
in  "  Manfred  "  were  so  appalling  and  so  vividly 
personal,  that  the  belief  was  universal  on  the 
Continent  that  the  experience  was  wrought  out 
of  some  actual  crime.  Goethe  expressed  this 
idea,  and  had  heard  a  murder  imputed  to  Byron 
as  the  cause. 

The  allusion  to  the  crime  and  consequences^ 
of  incest  is   so  plain  in   "  Manfred,"   that  it  isJ 
astonishing  that  any  one  can  pretend,  as  Gait 
does,  that  it  had  any  other  application. 

The  hero  speaks  of  the  love  between  himself 
and  the  imaginary  being  whose  spirit  haunts 
him  as  having  been  the  deadliest  sin,  and  one 

*  Vol.  vi.  p.  242. 


338  THE    DIRECT    ARGUMENT 

that  has,  perhaps,  caused   her  eternal   destruc 
tion  :  — 

"  What  is  she  now  ?     A  sufferer  for  my  sins  ; 
A  thing  I  dare  not  think  upon." 

He  speaks  of  her  blood  as  haunting  him,  and 
as  being 

"  My  blood,  —  the  pure,  warm  stream 
That  ran  in  the  veins  of  my  fathers,  and  in  ours 
When  we  were  in  our  youth,  and  had  one  heart, 
And  loved  each  other  as  we  should  not  love." 

This  work  was  conceived  in  the  commotion  of 
mind  immediately  following  his  separation.  The 
scenery  of  it  was  sketched  in  a  journal  sent  to 
his  sister  at  the  time. 

In  letter  377,  defending  the  originality  of  the 
conception,  and  showing  that  it  did  not  arise 
from  reading  "  Faust,"  he  says,  - 

"  It  was  the  Steinbach  and  the  Jungfrau,  and  something  else, 
more  than  Faustus,  that  made  me  write  '  Manfred.'  " 

In  letter  288,  speaking  of  the  various  accounts 
given  by  critics  of  the  origin  of  the  story,  he 
says,  — 


TO    PROVE   THE    CRIME.  339 

"  The  conjecturer  is  out,  and  knows  nothing  of  the  matter. 
I  had  a  better  origin  than  he  could  devise  or  divine  for  the  soul 
of  him." 

In  letter  299,  he  says,  — 

"  As  to  the  germs  of  '  Manfred,'  they  may  be  found  in  the 
journal  I  sent  to  Mrs.  Leigh,  part  of  which  you  saw." 

It  may  be  said,  plausibly,  tkat  Lord  Byron,  if 
conscious  of  this  crime,  would  not  have  expressed 
it  in  his  poetry.  But  his  nature  was  such,  that 
he  could  not  help  it.  Whatever  he  wrote  that 
had  any  real  power  was  generally  wrought  out 
of  self;  and,  when  in  a  tumult  of  emotion,  he 
could  not  help  giving  glimpses  of  the  cause.  It 
appears  that  he  did  know  that  he  had  been  ac 
cused  of  incest,  and  that  Shelley  thought  that 
accusation  the  only  really  important  one ;  and 
yet,  sensitive  as  he  was  to  blame  and  reproba 
tion,  he  ran  upon  this  very  subject  most  likely 
to  re-awaken  scandal. 

But  Lord  Byron's  strategy  was  always  of  the 
bold  kind.  It  was  the  plan  of  the  fugitive,  who, 
instead  of  running  away,  stations  himself  so  near 


34O  THE    DIRECT    ARGUMENT 

to  danger,  that  nobody  would  ever  think  of  look 
ing  for  him  there.  Pie  published  passionate 
verses  to  his  sister,  on  this  principle.  He  imi 
tated  the  security  of  an  innocent  man  in  every 
thing  but  the  unconscious  energy  of  the  agony 
which  seized  him  when  he  gave  vent  to  his  nature 
in  poetry.  The  boldness  of  his  strategy  is  evident 
through  all  his  life.  He  began  by  charging  his 
wife  with  the  very  cruelty  and  deception  which 
he  was  himself  practising.  He  had  spread  a 
net  for  her  feet,  and  he  accused  her  of  spreading 
a  net  for  his.  He  had  placed  her  in  a  position 
where  she  could  not  speak,  and  then  leisurely 
shot  arrows  at  her ;  and  he  represented  her  as 
having  done  the  same  by  him.  When  he  at 
tacked  her  in  "  Don  Juan,"  and  strove  to  take 
from  her  the  very  protection*  of  womanly  sacred- 
ness  by  putting  her  name  into  the  mouth  of  every 
ribald,  he  did  a  bold  thing,  and  he  knew  it.  He 
meant  to  do  a  bold  thing.  There  was  a  general 

*  The  reader  is  here  referred  to  the  remarks  of  "  Blackwood  "  on  "  Don 
Juan  "in  Part  III. 


TO    PROVE    THE    CRIME.  34! 

outcry  against  it ;  and  he  fought  it  down,  and 
gained  his  point.  By  sheer  boldness  and  perse 
verance,  he  turned  the  public  from  his  wife,  and 
to  himself,  in  the  face  of  their  very  groans  and 
protests.  His  "Manfred"  and  his  "Cain"  were 
parts  of  the  same  game.  But  the  involuntary  cry 
of  remorse  and  despair  pierced  even  through  his 
own  artifices,  in  a  manner  that  produced  a  con 
viction  of  reality. 

His  evident  fear  and  hatred  of  his  wife  were 
other  symptoms  of  crime.  There  was  no  ap 
parent  occasion  for  him  to  hate  her.  He  ad 
mitted  that  she  had  been  bright,  amiable,  good, 
agreeable  ;  that  her  marriage  had  been  a  very  un 
comfortable  one  ;  and  he  said  to  Madame  de  Stael, 
that  he  did  not  doubt  she  thought  him  deranged. 
Why,  then,  did  he  hate  her  for  wanting  to  live 
peaceably  by  herself?  Why  did  he  so  fear  her, 
that  not  one  year  of  his  life  passed  without  his 
concocting  and  circulating  some  public  or 
private  accusation  against  her  ?  She,  by  his 
own  showing,  published  none  against  him.  It 


342  THE    DIRECT    ARGUMENT 

is  remarkable,  that,  in  all  his  zeal  to  represent 
himself  injured,  he  nowhere  quotes  a  -single  re 
mark  from  Lady  Byron,  nor  a  story  coming  either 
directly  or  indirectly  from  her  or  her  family. 
He  is  in  a  fever  in  Venice,  not  from  what  she  has 
spoken,  but  because  she  has  sealed  the  lips  of 
her  counsel,  and  because  she  and  her  family  do 
not  speak  :  so  that  he  professes  himself  utterly 
ignorant  what  form  her  allegations  against  him 
may  take.  He  had  heard  from  Shelley  that  his 
wife  silenced  the  most  important  calumny  by 
going  to  make  Mrs.  Leigh  a  visit  ;  and  yet  he  is 
afraid  of  her,  —  so  afraid/that  he  tells  Moore  he 
expects  she  will  attack  him  after  death,  and 
charges  him  to  defend  his  grave. 

Now,  if  Lord  Byron  knew  that  his  wife  had  a 
deadly  secret  that  she  could  tell,  all  this  conduct 
is  explicable :  it  is  in  the  ordinary  course  of 
human  nature.  Men  always  distrust  those  who 
hold  facts  by  which  they  can  be  ruined.  They 
fear  them  ;  they  are  antagonistic  to  them  ; 
they  cannot  trust  them.  The  feeling  of  Falk- 


TO    PROVE    THE    CRIME.  343 

land  to  Caleb  Williams,  as  portrayed  in  God 
win's  masterly  sketch,  is  perfectly  natural ;  and  it 
is  exactly  illustrative  of  what  Byron  felt  for  his 
wife.  He  hated  her  for  having  his  secret  ;  and, 
so  far  as  a  human  being  could  do  it,  he  tried  to 
destroy  her  character  before  the  world,  that  she 
might  not  have  the  power  to  testify  against  him. 
If  we  admit  this  solution,  Byron's  conduct  is  at 
least  that  of  a  man  who  is  acting  as  men  ordi 
narily  would  act  under  such  circumstances  :  if 
we  do  not,  he  is  acting  like  a  fiend.  Let  us 
look  at  admitted  facts.  He  married  his  wife 
without  love,  in  a  gloomy,  melancholy,  mo 
rose  state  of  mind.  The  servants  testify  to 
strange,  unaccountable  treatment  of  her  imme 
diately  after  marriage  ;  such  that  her  confidential 
maid  advises  her  return  to  her  parents.  In  Lady 
Byron's  letter  to  Mrs.  Leigh,  she  reminds  Lord 
Byron  that  he  always  expressed  a  desire  and 
determination  to  free  himself  from  the  marriage. 
Lord  Byron  himself  admits  to  Madame  de  Stael 
that  his  behavior  was  such,  that  his  wife  must 


344  THE    DIRECT    ARGUMENT 

have  thought  him  insane.  Now,  we  are  asked  to 
believe,  that  simply  because,  under  these  circum 
stances,  Lady  Byron  wished  to  live  separate  from 
her  husband,  he  hated  and  feared  her  so  that  he 
could  never  let  her  alone  afterward  ;  that  he 
charged  her  with  malice,  slander,  deceit,  and 
deadly  intentions  against  himself,  merely  out  of 
spite,  because  she  preferred  not  to  live  with  him. 
This  last  view  of  the  case  certainly  makes  Lord 
Byron  more  unaccountably  wicked  than  the 
other. 

The  first  supposition  shows  him  to  us  as  a 
man  in  an  agony  of  self-preservation  ;  the  sec 
ond  as  a  fiend,  delighting  in  gratuitous  deceit 
and  cruelty. 

Again  :  the  evidence  of  this  crime  appears  in 
Lord  Byron's  admission,  in  a  letter  to  Moore, 
that  he  had  an  illegitimate  child  born  before  he 
left  England,  and  still  living  at  the  time. 

In  letter  307,  to  Mr.  Moore,  under  date  Ven 
ice,  Feb.  2,  1818,  Byron  says,  speaking  of 
Moore's  loss  of  a  child,  — 


TO    PROVE   THE    CRIME.  345 

"  I  know  how  to  feel  with  you,  because  I  am  quite  wrapped 
up  in  my  own  children.  Besides  my  little  legitimate,  I  have 
made  unto  myself  an  illegitimate  since  [since  Ada's  birth],  to 
say  nothing  of  one  before ;  and  I  look  forward  to  one  of  these 
as  the  pillar  of  my  old  age,  supposing  that  I  ever  reach,  as  I 
hope  I  never  shall,  that  desolating  period." 

The  illegitimate  child  that  he  had  made  to 
himself  since  Ada's  birth  was  Allegra,  born 
about  nine  or  ten  months  after  the  separation. 
The  other  illegitimate  alluded  to  was  born  be 
fore,  and,  as  the  reader  sees,  was  spoken  of  as 
still  living. 

Moore  appears  to  be  puzzled  to  know  who 
this  child  can  be,  and  conjectures  that  it  may 
possibly  be  the  child  referred  to  in  an  early 
poem,  written,  while  a  schoolboy  of  nineteen,  at 
Harrow. 

On  turning  back  to  the  note  referred  to,  we 
find  two  things  :  first,  that  the  child  there  men 
tioned  was  not  claimed  by  Lord  Byron  as  his 
own,  but  that  he  asked  his  mother  to  care  for  it 
as  belonging  to  a  schoolmate  now  dead  ;  sec- 


346  THE    DIRECT    ARGUMENT 

ond,  that  the  infant  died  shortly  after,  and,  con 
sequently,  could  not  be  the  child  mentioned  in 
this  letter. 

Now,  beside  this  fact,  that  Lord  Byron  admit 
ted  a  living  illegitimate  child  born  before  Ada, 
we  place  this  other  fact,  that  there  was  a  child 
in  England  which  was  believed  to  be  his  by 
those  who  had  every  opportunity  of  knowing. 

On  this  subject  we  shall  cite  a  passage  from 
a  letter  recently  received  .by  us  from  England, 
and  written  by  a  person  who  appears  well  in 
formed  on  the  subject  of  his  letter :  — 

"  The  fact  is,  the  incest  was  first  committed,  and  the  child  of 
it  born  before^  shortly  before,  the  Byron  marriage.  The  child 
(a  daughter)  must  not  be  confounded  with  the  natural  daughter 
of  Lord  Byron,  born  about  a  year  after  his  separation. 

"  The  history,  more  or  less,  of  that  child  of  incest,  is  known 
to  many ;  for  in  Lady  Byron's  attempts  to  watch  over  .her,  and 
rescue  her  from  ruin,  she  was  compelled  to  employ  various 
agents  at  different  times." 

This  letter  contains  a  full  recognition,  by  an 
intelligent  person  in  England,  of  a  child  corre- 


TO    PROVE    THE    CRIME.  347 

spending  well  with  Lord  Byron's  declaration  of 
an  illegitimate,  born  before  he  left  England. 

Up  to  this  point,  we  have,  then,  the  circum 
stantial  evidence  against  Lord  Byron  as  fol 
lows  :  — 

A  good  and  amiable  woman,  who  had  married 
him  from  love,  determined  to  separate  from  him. 

Two  of  the  greatest  lawyers  of  England  con 
firmed  her  in  this  decision,  and  threatened  Lord 
Byron,  that,  unless  he  consented  to  this,  they 
would  expose  the  evidence  against  him  in  a 
•suit  for  divorce.  He  fled  from  this  exposure, 
and  never  afterwards  sought  public  investiga 
tion. 

He  was  angry  with  and  malicious  toward  the 
counsel  who  supported  his  wife  ;  he  was  angry  at 
and  afraid  of  a  wife  who  did  nothing  to  injure  him, 
and  he  made  it  a  special  object  to  defame  and  de 
grade  her.  He  gave  such  evidence  of  remorse 
and  fear  in  his  writings  as  to  lead  eminent 
literary  men  to  believe  he  had  committed  a  great 
crime.  The  public  rumor  of  his  day  specified 


34-8  THE    DIRECT    ARGUMENT 

what  the  crime  was.  His  relations,  by  his  own 
showing,  joined  against  him.  The  report  was 
silenced  by  his  wife's  efforts  only.  Lord  Byron 
subsequently  declares  the  existence  of  an  illegiti 
mate  child,  born  before  he  left  England.  Cor 
responding  to  this,  there  is  the  history,  known  in 
England,  of  a  child  believed  to  be  his,  in  whom 
his  wife  took  an  interest. 

All  these  presumptions  exist  independently 
of  any  direct  testimony  from  Lady  Byron.  They 
are  to  be  admitted  as  true,  whether  she  says  a 
word  one  way  or  the  other. 

From  this  background  of  proof,  I  come  for 
ward,  and  testify  to  an  interview  with  Lady  By 
ron,  in  which  she  gave  me  specific  information 
of  the  facts  in  the  case.  That  I  report  the 
facts  just  as  I  received  them  from  her,  not 
altered  or  misremembered,  is  shown  by  the 
testimony  of  my  sister,  to  whom  I  related  them 
at  the  time.  It  cannot,  then,  be  denied  that  I 
had  this  interview,  and  that  this  communication 
was  made.  I  therefore  testify  that  Lady  Byron, 


TO    PROVE   THE    CRIME.  349 

for  a  proper  purpose,  and  at  a  proper  time, 
stated  to  me  the  following  things  :  — 

i;  That  the  crime  which  separated  her  from 
Lord  Byron  was  incest.  2.  That  she  first  dis 
covered  it  by  improper  actions  towards  his 
sister,  which,  he  meant  to  make  her  understand, 
indicated  the  guilty  relation.  3.  That  he  ad 
mitted  it,  reasoned  on  it,  defended  it,  tried  to 
make  her  an  accomplice,  and,  failing  in  that, 
hated  her  and  expelled  her.  4.  That  he  threat 
ened  her  that  he  would  make  it  his  life's  object 
to  destroy  her  character.  5.  That  for  a  period 
she  was  led  to  regard  this  conduct  as  insanity, 
and  to  consider  him  only  as  a  diseased  person. 
6.  That  she  had  subsequent  proof  that  the  facts 
were  really  as  she  suspected  ;  that  there  had 
been  a  child  born  of  the  crime,  whose  history 
she  knew  ;  that  Mrs.  Leigh  had  repented. 

The  purpose  for  which  this  was  stated  to  me 
was  to  ask,  Was  it  her  duty  to  make  the  truth 
fully  known  during  her  lifetime  ? 

Here,  then,  is  a  man    believed   guilty  of   an 


35O  THE    DIRECT    ARGUMENT 

unusual  crime  by  two  lawyers,  the  best  in  Eng 
land,  who  have  seen  the  evidence,  — a  man  who 
dares  not  meet  legal  investigation.  The  crime 
is  named  in  society,  and  deemed  so  far  probable 
to  the  men  of  his  generation  as  to  be  spoken 
of  by  Shelley  as  the  only  important  allegation 
against  him.  He  acts  through  life  exactly  like  a 
man  struggling  with  remorse,  and  afraid  of 'de 
tection  ;  he  has  all  the  restlessness  and  hatred 
and  fear  that  a  man  has  who  feels  that  there  is 
evidence  which  might  destroy  him.  He  admits 
an  illegitimate  child  besides  Allegra.  A  child 
believed  to  have  been  his  is  known  to  many  in 
England.  Added  to  all  this,  his  widow,  now 
advanced  in  years,  and  standing  on  the  borders 
of  eternity,  being,  as  appears  by  her  writings 
and  conversation,  of  perfectly  sound  mind  at 
the  time,  testifies  to  me  the  facts  before  named, 
which  exactly  correspond  to  probabilities. 

I  publish  the  statement ;  and  the  solicitors 
who  hold  Lady  Byron's  private  papers  do  not 
deny  the  truth  of  the  story.  They  try  to  cast 


*•  TO    PROVE    THE    CRIME.  351 

discredit  on  me  for  speaking ;  but  they  do  not  say 
that  I  have  spoken  falsely,  or  that  the  story  is  not 
true.  The  lawyer  who  knew  Lady  Byron's  story 
in  1816  does  not  now  deny  that  this  is  the  true 
one.  Several  persons  in  England  testify,  that 
at  various  times,  and  for  various  purposes,  the 
same  story  has  been  told  to  them.  Moreover, 
it  appears  from  my  last  letter  addressed  to  Lady 
Byron  on  this  subject  that  I  recommended  her 
to  leave  all  necessary  papers  in  the  hands  of 
some  discreet  persons,  who,  after  both  had  passed 
away,  should  see  that  justice  was  done.  The 
solicitors  admit  that  Lady  Byron  has  left  sealed 
papers  of  great  importance  in  the  hands  of  trus 
tees,  with  discretionary  power.  I  have  been 
informed  very  directly  that  the  nature  of  these 
documents  was  such  as  to  lead  to  the  suppres 
sion  of  Lady  Byron's  life  and  writings.  This 
is  all  exactly  as  it  would  be,  if  the  story  related 
by  Lady  Byron  were  the  true  one. 

The  evidence  under  this  point  of  view  is  so 
strong,  that  a  great  effort  has  been  made  to 
throw  out  Lady  Byron's  testimony. 


352  THE    DIRECT    ARGUMENT 

This  attempt  has  been  made  on  two  grounds, 
ist,  That  she  was  under  a  mental  hallucination. 
This  theory  has  been  most  ably  refuted  by  the 
very  first  authority  in  England  upon  the  sub 
ject.  He  says,  — 

"  No  person  practically  acquainted  with  the  true  characteris 
tics  of  insanity  would  affirm,  that,  had  this  idea  of '  incest '  been 
an  insane  hallucination,  Lady  Byron  could,  from  the  lengthened 
period  which  intervened  between  her  unhappy  marriage  and 
death,  have  refrained  from  exhibiting  it,  not  only  to  legal  ad 
visers  and  trustees  (assuming  that  she  revealed  to  them  the 
fact),  but  to  others,  exacting  no  pledge  of  secrecy  from  them  as 
to  her  mental  impressions.  Lunatics  do  for  a  time,  and  for 
some  special  purpose,  most  cunningly  conceal  their  delusions  ; 
but  they  have  not  the  capacity  to  struggle  for  thirty-six  years,  as 
Lady  Byron  must  have  done,  with  so  frightful  an  hallucination, 
without  the  insane  state  of  mind  becoming  obvious  to  those 
with  whom  they  are  daily  associating.  Neither  is  it  consistent 
with  experience  to  suppose,  that,  if  Lady  Byron  had  been  a 
monomaniac,  her  state  of  disordered  understanding  would  have 
been  restricted  to  one  hallucination.  Her  diseased  brain,  af 
fecting  the  normal  action  of  thought,  would,  in  all  probability, 
have  manifested  other  symptoms  besides  those  referred  to  of 
aberration  of  intellect. 

"  During  the  last  thirty  years,  I  have  not  met  with  a  case  of 


TO   PROVE   THE   CRIME.  353 

insanity  (assuming  the  hypothesis  of  hallucination)  at  all  par 
allel  with  that  of  Lady  Byron.  In  my  experience,  it  is  unique. 
I  never  saw  a  patient  with  such  a  delusion." 

We  refer  our  readers  to  a  careful  study 
of  Dr.  Forbes  Winslow' s  consideration  of  this 
subject  given  on  p.  458  of  our  Part  III.  Any 
one  who  has  been  familiar  with  the  delicacy 
and  acuteness  of  Dr.  Winslow,  as  shown  in  his 
work  on  obscure  diseases  of  the  brain  and 
nerves,  must  feel  that  his  positive  assertion  on 
this  ground  is  the  best  possible  evidence.  We 
here  gratefully  acknowledge  our  obligations  to 
Dr.  Winslow  for  the  corrected  proof  of  his 
valuable  letter,  which  he  has  done  us  the  honor 
to  send  for  this  work.  We  shall  consider  that 
his  argument,  in  connection  with  what  the 
reader  may  observe  of  Lady  Byron's  own  writ 
ings,  closes  that  issue  of  the  case  completely. 

The    other   alternative   is,   that    Lady  Byron 

deliberately  committed  false  witness.     This  was 

the  ground  assumed  by  the  "  Blackwood,"  when 

in  July,  1869,  it  took  upon  itself  the  responsi- 

23 


354  THE    DIRECT   ARGUMENT 

bility  of  re-opening  the  Byron  controversy.  It 
is  also  the  ground  assumed  by  "  The  London 
Quarterly"  of  to-day. 

Both  say,  in  so  many  words,  that  no  crime  was 
imputed  to  Lord  Byron ;  that  the  representa 
tions  made  to  Lushington  in  the  beginning 
were  false  ones  ;  and  that  the  story  told  to  Lady 
Byron's  confidential  friends  in  later  days  was 
also  false. 

Let  us  examine  this  theory.  In  the  first  place, 
it  requires  us  to  believe  in  the  existence  of  a 
moral  monster,  of  whom  Madame  Brinvilliers  is 
cited  as  the  type.  The  "  Blackwood,"  let  it  be 
remembered,  opens  the  controversy  with  the 
statement  that  Lady  Byron  was  a  Madame 
Brinvilliers.  The  "  Quarterly  "  does  not  shrink 
from  the  same  assumption. 

Let  us  consider  the  probability  of  this  ques 
tion. 

If  Lady  Byron  were  such  a  woman,  and 
wished  to  ruin  her  husband's  reputation  in  order 
to  save  her  own,  and,  being  perfectly  unscrupu- 


TO    PROVE   THE    CRIME.  355 

lous,  had  circulated  against  him  a  story  of  un 
natural  crime  which  had  no  proofs,  how  came 
two  of  the  first  lawyers  of  England  to  assume 
the  responsibility  of  offering  to  present  her  case 
in  open  court  ?  How  came  her  husband,  if  he 
knew  himself  guiltless,  to  shrink  from  that  pub 
lic  investigation  which  must  have  demonstrated 
his  innocence  ?  Most  astonishing  of  all,  when 
he  fled  from  trial,  and  the  report  got  abroad 
against  him  in  England,. and  was  believed  even 
by  his  own  relations,  wrhy  did  not  his  wife  avail 
herself  of  the  moment  to  complete  her  vic 
tory  ?  If  at  that  moment  she  had  publicly 
broken  with  Mrs.  Leigh,  she  might  have  con 
firmed  every  rumor.  Did  she  do  it  ?  and  why 
not  ?  According  to  the  "  Blackwood,"  we  have 
here  a  woman  who  has  made  up  a  frightful  story 
to  ruin  her  husband's  reputation,  yet  who  takes 
every  pains  afterward  to  prevent  its  being  ruined. 
She  fails  to  do  the  very  thing  she  undertakes  ; 
and  for  years  after,  rather  than  injure  him,  she 
loses  public  sympathy,  and,  by  sealing  the  lips 


356  THE    DIRECT    ARGUMENT 

of  her  legal  counsel,  deprives  herself  of  the  ad 
vantage  of  their  testimony. 

Moreover,  if  a  desire  for  revenge  could  have  been 
excited  in  her,  it  would  have  been  provoked  by  the 
first  publication  of  the  fourth  canto  of  "Childe 
Harold,"  when  she  felt  that  Byron  was  attacking 
her  before  the  world.  Yet  we  have  Lady  Anne 
Barnard's  testimony,  that,  at  this  time,  she  was  so 
far  from  wishing  to  injure  him,  that  all  her  commu 
nications  were  guarded,  by  cautious  secrecy.  At 
this  time,  also,  she  had  a  strong  party  in  England, 
to  whom  she  could  have  appealed.  Again :  when 
"  Don  Juan  "  was  first  printed,  it  excited  a  vio 
lent  re-action  against  Lord  Byron.  Had  his  wife 
chosen  then  to  accuse  him,  and  display  the  evi 
dence  she  had  shown  to  her  counsel,  there  is 
little  doubt  that  all  the  world  would  have  stood 
with  her  ;  but  she  did  not.  After  his  death, 
when  she  spoke  at  last,  there  seems  little  doubt, 
from  the  strength  of  Dr.  Lushington's  language, 
that  Lady  Byron  had  a  very  strong  case,  and 
that,  had  she  been  willing,  her  counsel  could  have 


TO    PROVE    THE    CRIME.  357 

told  much  more  than  he  did.  She  might  then 
have  told  her  whole  story,  and  been  believed. 
Her  word  was  believed  by  Christopher  North, 
and  accepted  as  proof  that  Byron  had  been  a 
great  criminal.  Had  revenge  been  her  motive, 
she  could  have  spoken  the  ONE  WORD  more 
that  North  called  for. 

The  "  Quarterly "  asks  why  she  waited  till 
everybody  concerned  was  dead.  There  is  an 
obvious  answer.  Because,  while  there  was  any 
body  living  to  whom  the  testimony  would  have 
been  utterly  destructive,  there  were  the  best 
reasons  for  withholding  it.  When  all  were  gone 
from  earth,  and  she  herself  was  in  constant  expec 
tation  of  passing  away,  there  was  a  reason,  and 
a  proper  one,  why  she  should  speak.  By  nature 
and  principle  truthful,  she  had  had  the  oppor 
tunity  of  silently  watching  the  operation  of  a 
permitted  lie  upon  a  whole  generation.  She  had 
been  placed  in  a  position  in  which  it  was  neces 
sary,  by  silence,  to  allow  the  spread  and  propaga 
tion  through  society  of  a  radical  falsehood.  Lord 


358  THE    DIRECT    ARGUMENT 

Byron's  life,  fame,  and  genius  had  all  struck  their 
roots  into  this  lie,  been  nourished  by  it,  and  had 
derived  thence  a  poisonous  power. 

In  reading  this  history,  it  will  be  remarked 
that  he  pleaded  his  personal  misfortunes  in  his 
marriage  as  excuses  for  every  offence  against 
morality,  and  that  the  literary  world  of  England 
accepted  the  plea,  and  tolerated  and  justified  the 
crimes.  Never  before,  in  England,  had  adultery 
been  spoken  of  in  so  respectful  a  manner,  and 
an  adulteress  openly  praised  and  feted,  and  ob 
scene  language  and  licentious  images  publicly 
tolerated  ;  and  all  on  the  plea  of  a  man's  private 
misfortunes. 

There  was,  therefore,  great  force  in  the  sug 
gestion  made  to  Lady  Byron,  that  she  owed  a 
testimony  in  this  case  to  truth  and  justice,  irre 
spective  of  any  personal  considerations.  There 
is  no  more  real  reason  for  allowing  the  spread  of 
a  hurtful  falsehood  that  affects  ourselves  than 
for  allowing  one  that  affects  our  neighbor. 
This  falsehood  had  corrupted  the  literature  and 


TO    PROVE    THE   CRIME.  359 

morals  of  both  England  and  America,  and  led  to 
the  public  toleration,  by  respectable  authorities, 
of  forms  of  vice  at  first  indignantly  rejected. 
The  question  was,  Was  this  falsehood  to  go  on 
corrupting  literature  as  long  as  history  lasted  ? 
Had  the  world  no  right  to  true  history  ?  Had 
she  who  possessed  the  truth  no  responsibility 
to  the  world  ?  Was  not  a  final  silence  a  con 
firmation  of  a  lie  with  all  its  consequences  ? 

This  testimony  of  Lady  Byron,  so  far  from 
being  thrown  out  altogether,  as  the  "  Quarterly" 
proposes,  has  a  peculiar  and  specific  value  from 
the  great  forbearance  and  reticence  which  char 
acterized  the  greater  part  of  her  life. 

The  testimony  of  a  person  who  has  shown 
in  every  action  perfect  friendliness  to  another 
comes  with  the  more  weight  on  that  account. 
Testimony  extorted  by  conscience  from  a  parent 
against  a  child,  or  a  wife  against  a  husband, 
where  all  the  other  actions  of  the  life  prove  the 
existence  of  kind  feeling,  is  held  to  be  the 
strongest  form  of  evidence. 


360  THE   DIRECT    ARGUMENT 

The  fact  that  Lady  Byron,  under  the  severest 
temptations  and  the  bitterest  insults  and  inju 
ries,  withheld  every  word  by  which  Lord  Byron 
could  be  criminated,  so  long  as  he  and  his  sister 
were  living,  is  strong  evidence,  that,  when  she 
did  speak,  it  was  not  under  the  influence  of  ill- 
will,  but  of  pure  conscientious  convictions ;  and 
the  fullest  weight  ought,  therefore,  to  be  given 
to  her  testimony. 

We  are  asked  now  why  she  ever  spoke  at  all. 
The  fact  that  her  story  is  known  to  several  per 
sons  in  England  is  brought  up  as  if  it  were  a 
crime.  To  this  we  answer,  Lady  Byron  had  an 
undoubted  moral  right  to  have  exposed  the 
whole  story  in  a  public  court  in  1816,  and  thus 
cut  herself  loose  from  her  husband  by  a  divorce. 
For  the  sake  of  saving  her  husband  and  sister 
from  destruction,  she  waived  this  right  to  self- 
justification,  and  stood  for  years  a  silent  sufferer 
under  calumny  and  misrepresentation.  She  de 
sired  nothing  but  to  retire  from  the  whole  sub 
ject  ;  to  be  permitted  to  enjoy  with  her  child  the 


TO    PROVE    THE    CRIME.  361 

peace  and  seclusion  that  belong  to  her  sex.  Her 
husband  made  her,  through  his  life  and  after  his 
death,  a  subject  of  such  constant  discussion,  that 
she  must  either  abandon  the  current  literature 
of  her  day,  or  .run  the  risk  of  reading  more  or 
less  about  herself  in  almost  every  magazine  of 
her  time.  Conversations  with  Lord  Byron,  notes 
of  interviews  with  Lord  Byron,  journals  of  time 
spent  with  Lord  Byron,  were  constantly  spread 
before  the  public.  Leigh  Hunt,  Gait,  Medwin, 
Trelawney,  Lady  Blessington,  Dr.  Kennedy,  and 
Thomas  Moore,  all  poured  forth  their  •memo 
rials  ;  and  in  all  she  figured  prominently.  All 
these  had  their  tribes  of  reviewers  and  critics, 
who  also  discussed  her.  The  profound  mystery 
of  her  silence  seemed  constantly  to  provoke  in 
quiry.  People  could  not  forgive  her  for  not 
speaking.  Her  privacy,  retirement,  and  silence 
were  set  down  as  coldness,  haughtiness,  and 
contempt  of  human  sympathy.  She  was  con 
stantly  challenged  to  say  something  :  as,  for  ex 
ample,  in  the  "  Noctes  "  of  November,  1825,  six 


362  THE    DIRECT    ARGUMENT 

months  after  Byron's  death,  Christopher  North 
says,  speaking  of  the  burning  of  the  Autobiog 
raphy, — 

"  I  think,  since  the  Memoir  was  burned  by  these  people, 
these  people  are  bound  to  put  us  in  possession  of  the  best  evi 
dence  they  still  have  the  power  of  producing,  in  order  that 
we  may  come  to  a  just  conclusion  as  to  a  subject  upon  which, 
by  their  act,  at  least,  as  much  as  by  any  other  people's  act,  we 
are  compelled  to  consider  it  our  duty  to  make  up  our  deliberate 
opinion,  —  deliberate  and  decisive.  Woe  be  to  those  who  pro 
voke  this  curiosity,  and  will  not  allay  it !  Woe  be  to  them  ! 
say  I.  Woe  to  them  !  says  the  world." 

When  Lady  Byron  published  her  statement, 
which  certainly  seemed  called  for  by  this  lan 
guage,  Christopher  North  blamed  her  for  doing 
it,  and  then  again  said  that  she  ought  to  go  on 
and  tell  the  whole  story.  If  she  was  thus  ad 
jured  to  speak,  blamed  for  speaking,  and  adjured 
to  speak  further,  ail  in  one  breath,  by  public 
prints,  there  is  reason  to  think  that  there  could 
not  have  come  less  solicitation  from  private 
sources,  —  from  friends  who  had  access  to  her 


TO    PROVE    THE    CRIME.  363 

at  all  hours,  whom  she  loved,  by  whom  she  was 
beloved,  and  to  whom  her  refusal  to  explain 
might  seem  a  breach  of  friendship.  Yet  there 
is  no  evidence  on  record,  that  we  have  seen, 
that  she  ever  had  other  confidant  than  her  legal 
counsel,  till  after  all  the  actors  in  the  events 
were  in  their  graves,  and  the  daughter,  for  whose 
sake  largely  the  secret  was  guarded,  had  fol 
lowed  them. 

Now,  does  any  one  claim,  that  because  a  woman 
has  sacrificed  for  twenty  years  all  cravings  for 
human  sympathy,  and  all  possibility  of  perfectly 
free  *and  unconstrained  intercourse  with  her 
friends,  that  she  is  obliged  to  go  on  bearing  this 
same  lonely  burden  to  the  end  of  her  days  ? ' 

Let  any  one  imagine  the  frightful  constraint 
and  solitude  implied  in  this  sentence.  Let  any 
one,  too,  think  of  its  painful  complications  in 
life.  The  roots  of  a  falsehood  are  far-reaching. 
Conduct  that  can  only  be  explained  by  criminat 
ing  another  must  often  seem  unreasonable  and 
unaccountable  ;  and  the  most  truthful  person, 


364  THE    DIRECT    ARGUMENT 

who  feels  bound  to  keep  silence  regarding  a 
radical  lie  of  another,  must  often  be  placed  in 
positions  most  trying  to  conscientiousness.  The 
great  merit  of  "  Caleb  Williams  "  as  a  nqyel  con 
sists  in  its  philosophical  analysis  of  the  utter 
helplessness  of  an  innocent  person  who  agrees 
to  keep  the  secret  of  a  guilty  one.  One  sees 
there  how  that  necessity  of  silence  produces  all 
the  effect  of  falsehood  on  his  part,  and  deprives 
him  of  the  confidence  and  sympathy  of  those 
with  whom  he  would  take  refuge. 

For  years,  this  unnatural  life  was  forced  on 
Lady  Byron,  involving  her  as  in  a  network,^  even 
in  her  dearest  family  relations. 

That,  when  all  the  parties  were  dead,  Lady 
Byron  should  allow  herself  the  sympathy  of  a 
circle  of  intimate  friends,  is  something  so  per 
fectly  proper  and  natural,  that  we  cannot  but 
wonder  that  her  conduct  in  this  respect  has  ever 
been  called  in  question.  If  it  was  her  right 
to  have  had  a  public  expose  in  1816,  it  was 
certainly  her  right  to  show  to  her  own  intimate 


TO    PROVE    THE    CRIME.  365 

circle  the  secret  of  her  life  when  all  the  principal 
actors  were  passed  from  earth. 

The  "  Quarterly  "  speaks  as  if,  by  thus  waiting, 
she  deprived  Lord  Byron  of  the  testimony  of 
living  witnesses.  But  there  were  as  many  wit 
nesses  and  partisans  dead  on  her  side  as  on  his. 
Lady  Milbanke  and  Sir  Ralph,  Sir  Samuel  Rom- 
illy  and  Lady  Anne  Barnard,  were  as  much  dead 
as  Hobhouse,  Moore,  and  others  of  Byron's  par 
tisans. 

The  "  Quarterly "  speaks  of  Lady  Byron  as 
"  running  round,  and  repeating  her  story  to  peo 
ple  mostly  below  her  own  rank  in  life." 

To  those  who  know  the  personal  dignity  of 
Lady  Byron's  manners,  represented  and  dwelt 
on  by  her  husband  in  his  conversations  with 
Lady  Blessington,  this  coarse  and  vulgar  attack  • 
only  proves  the  poverty  of  a  cause  which  can 
defend  itself  by  no. better  weapons. 

Lord  Byron  speaks  of  his  wife  as  "  highly  cul 
tivated  ; "  as  having  "  a  degree  of  self-control  I 
never  saw  equalled." 


366  THE    DIRECT    ARGUMENT 

"  I  am  certain,"  he  says,  "  that  Lady  Byron's  first  idea  is 
what  is  due  to  herself :  I  mean  that  it  is  the  undeviating  rule 
of  her  conduct.  .  .  .  Now,  my  besetting  sin  is  a  want  of  that 
self-respect  which  she  has  in  excess.  .  .  .  But,  though  I 
accuse  Lady  Byron  of  an  excess  of  self-respect,  I  must,  in 
candor,  admit,  that,  if  any  person  ever  had  excuse  for  an  ex 
traordinary  portion  of  it,  she  has  ;  as,  in  all  her  thoughts,  words, 
and  actions,  she  is  the  most  decorous  woman  that  ever 
existed." 

This  is  the  kind  of  woman  who  has  lately 
been  accused  in  the  public  prints  as  a  babbler 
of  secrets  and  a  gossip  in  regard  to  her  private 
difficulties  with  children,  grandchildren,  and  ser 
vants.  It  is  a  fair  specimen  of  the  justice  that 
has  generally  been  meted  out  to  Lady  Byron. 

In  1836,  she  was  accused  of  having  made  a 
confidant  of  Campbell,  on  the  strength  of 
having  written  him  a  note  declining  to  give  him 
any  information,  or  answer  any  questions.  In 
July,  1869,  she  was  denounced  by  "  Blackwood  " 
as  a  Madame  Brinvilliers  for  keeping  such 
perfect  silence  on  the  matter  of  her  husband's 
character  ;  and,  in  the  last  "  Quarterly,"  she  is 


TO    PROVE   THE    CRIME.  367 

spoken  of  as  a  gossip  "running  round,  and 
repeating  her  story  to  people  below  her  in 
-  rank." 

While  we  are  upon  this  subject,  we  have  a 
suggestion  to  make.  John  Stuart  Mill  says 
that  utter  self-abnegation  has  been  preached  to 
women  as  a  peculiarly  feminine  virtue.  It  is 
true  ;  but  there  is  a  moral  limit  to  the  value  of 
self-abnegation. 

It  is  a  fair  question  for  the  moralist,  whether 
it  is  right  and  proper  wholly  to  ignore  one's 
personal  claims  to  justice.  The  teachings  of 
the  Saviour  give  us  warrant  for  submitting  to 
personal  injuries;  but  both  the  Saviour  and 
St.  Paul  manifested  bravery  in  denying  false 
accusations,  and  asserting  innocence. 

Lady  Byron  was  falsely  accused  of  having 
ruined  the  man  of  his  generation,  and  caused 
all  his  vices. and  crimes,  and  all  their  evil  effects 
on  society.  She  submitted  to  the  accusation 
for  a  certain  number  of  years  for  reasons  which 
commended  themselves  to  her  conscience ;  but 


368  THE    DIRECT    ARGUMENT 

when  all  the  personal  considerations  were  re 
moved,  and  she  was  about  passing  from  life,  it 
was  right,  it  was  just,  it  was  strictly  in  accord 
ance  with  the  philosophical  and  ethical  character 
of  her  mind,  and  with  her  habit  of  considering  all 
things  in  their  widest  relations  to  the  good  of 
mankind,  that  she  should  give  serious  attention 
and  consideration  to  the  last  duty  which  she 
might  owe  to  abstract  truth  and  justice  in  her 
generation. 

In  her  letter  on  the  religious  state  of  Eng 
land,  we  find  her  advocating  an  absolute  frank 
ness  in  all  religious  parties.  She  would  have  all 
openly  confess  those  doubts,  which,  from  the  best 
of  motives,  are  usually  suppressed  ;  and  believed, 
that,  as  a  result  of  such  perfect  truthfulness,  a 
wider  love  would  prevail  among  Christians.  This 
shows  the  strength  of  her  conviction  of  the 
power  and  the  importance  of  absolute  truth ; 
and  shows,  therefore,  that  her  doubts  and  con 
scientious  inquiries  respecting  her  duty  on  this 
subject  are  exactly  what  might  have  been  ex- 


TO    PROVE    THE    CRIME.  369 

pected  from  a  person  of  her  character  and  prin 
ciples. 

Having  thus  shown  that  Lady  Byron's  testi 
mony  is  the  testimony  of  a  woman  of  strong 
and  sound  mind,  that  it  was  not  given  from 
malice  nor  ill-will,  that  it  was  given  at  a  proper 
time  and  in  a  proper  manner,  and  for  a  purpose 
in  accordance  with  the  most  elevated  moral 
views,  and  that  it  is  co-incident  with  all  the 
established  facts  of  this  history,  and  furnishes  a 
perfect  solution  of  every  mystery  of  the  case,  we 
think  we  shall  carry  the  reader  with  us  in  say 
ing  that  it  is  to  be  received  as  absolute  truth. 

This  conviction  we  arrive  at  while  as  yet  we 
are  deprived  of  the  statement  prepared  by  Lady 
Byron,  and  the  proof  by  which  she  expected  to 
sustain  it ;  both  which,  as  we  understand,  are 
now  in  the  hands  of  her  trustees. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

PHYSIOLOGICAL   ARGUMENT. 

r  I  ^HE  credibility  of  the  accusation  of  the 
unnatural  crime  charged  to  Lord  Byron  is 
greater  than  if  charged  to  most  men.  He  was 
born  of  parents  both  of  whom  were  remark 
able  for  perfectly  ungoverned  passions.  There 
appears  to  be  historical  evidence  that  he  was 
speaking  literal  truth  when  he  says  to  Medwin 
of  his  father, — 

"  He  would  have  made  a  bad  hero  for  Hannah  More.  He 
ran  out  three  fortunes,  and  married  or  ran  away  with  three 
women.  .  .  .  He  seemed  born  for  his  own  ruin  and  that  of  the 
other  sex.  He  began  by  seducing  Lady  Carmarthen,  and  spent 
her  four  thousand  pounds ;  and,  not  content  with  one  adventure 
of  this  kind,  afterwards  eloped  with  Miss  Gordon."  —  Medwin  'j 
Conversations,  p.  31.  • 
370 


PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT.  3/1 

Lady  Carmarthen  here  spoken  of  was  the 
mother  of  Mrs.  Leigh.  Miss  Gordon  became 
Lord  Byron's  mother. 

By  his  own  account,  and  that  of  Moore,  she 
was  a  passionate,  ungoverned,  though  affection 
ate  woman.  Lord  Byron  says  to  Medwin,  — 

"  I  lost  my  father  when  I  was  only  six  years  of  age.  My 
mother,  when  she  was  in  a  passion  with  me  (and  I  gave  her 
cause  enough),  used  to  say,  "  O  you  little  dog  !  you  are  a  Byron 
all  over  !  you  are  as  bad  as  your  father  !  "  —  Ibid.,  p.  31. 

By  all  the  accounts  of  his  childhood  and  early 
youth,  it  is  made  apparent  that  ancestral  causes 
had  sent  him  into  the  world  with  a  most  peril 
ous  and  exceptional  sensitiveness  of  brain  and 
nervous  system,  which  it  would  have  required 
the  most  judicious  course  of  education  to  direct 
safely  and  happily. 

Lord  Byron  often  speaks  as  if  he  deemed 
himself  subject  to  tendencies  which  might  ter 
minate  in  insanity.  The  idea  is  so  often  men 
tioned  and  dwelt  upon  in  his  letters,  journals, 


372  PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT. 

and  conversations,  that  we  cannot  but  ascribe 
it  to  some  very  peculiar  experience,  and  not  to 
mere  affectation. 

But,  in  the  history  of  his  early  childhood  and 
youth,  we  see  no  evidence  of  any  original  male- 
formation  of  nature.  We  see  only  evidence 
of  one  of  those  organizations,  full  of  hope  and 
full  of  peril,  which  adverse  influences  might 
easily  drive  to  insanity,  but  wise  physiological 
training  and  judicious  moral  culture  might  have 
guided  to  the  most  splendid  results.  But  of 
these  he  had  neither.  He  was  alternately  the 
pet  and  victim  of  his  mother's  tumultuous  na 
ture,  and  equally  injured  both  by  her  love  and 
her  anger.  A  Scotch  maid  of  religious  charac 
ter  gave  him  early  serious  impressions  of  reli 
gion,  and  thus  added  the  element  of  an  awakened 
conscience  to  the  conflicting  ones  of  his  char 
acter. 

Education,  in  the  proper  sense  of  the  word,  did 
not  exist  in  England  in  those  days.  Physiologi 
cal  considerations  of  the  influence  of  the  body 


PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT.  373 

on  the  soul,  of  the  power  of  brain  and  nerve  over 
moral  development,  had  then  not  even  entered 
the  general  thought  of  society.  The  school  and 
college  education  literally  taught  him  nothing 
but  the  ancient  classics,  of  whose  power  in 
exciting  and  developing  the  animal  passions 
Byron  often  speaks. 

The  morality  of  the  times  is  strikingly  exem 
plified  even  in  its  literary  criticism. 

For  example  :  One  of  Byron's  poems,  written 
while  a  schoolboy  at  Harrow,  is  addressed  to 
"  My  Son."  Mr.  Moore,  and  the  annotator  of 
the  standard  edition  of  Byron's  poems,  gravely 
give  the  public  their  speculations  on  the  point, 
whether  Lord  Byron  first  became  a  father 
while  a  schoolboy  in  Harrow  ;  and  go  into  par 
ticulars  in  relation  to  a  certain  infant,  the  claim 
to  which  lay  between  Lord  Byron  and  another 
schoolfellow.  It  is  not  the  nature  -  of  the  event 
itself,  so  much  as  the  cool,  unembarrassed  man 
ner  in  which  it  is  discussed,  that  gives  the  im 
pression  of  the  state  of  public  morals.  There 


374  PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT. 

is  no  intimation  of  any  thing  unusual,  or  discred 
itable  to  the  school,  in  the  event,  and  no  appar 
ent  suspicion  that  it  will  be  regarded  as  a  serious 
imputation  on  Lord  Byron's  character. 

Modern  physiological  developments  would  lead 
any  person  versed  in  the  study  of  the  recip 
rocal  influence  of  physical  and  moral  laws  to 
anticipate  the  most  serious  danger  to  such  an 
organization  as  Lord  Byron's,  from  a  precocious 
development  of  the  passions.  Alcoholic  and 
narcotic  stimulants,  in  the  case  of  such  a  person, 
would  be  regarded  as  little  less  than  suicidal, 
and  an  early  course  of  combined  drinking 
and  licentiousness  as  tending  directly  to  estab 
lish  those  unsound  conditions  which  lead  towards 
moral  insanity.  Yet  not  only  Lord  Byron's  tes 
timony,  but  every  probability  from  the  license  of 
society,  goes  to  show  that  this  was  exactly  what 
did  take  place. 

Neither  restrained  by  education,  nor  warned 
by  any  correct  physiological  knowledge,  nor  held 
in  check  by  any  public  sentiment,  he  drifted 
directly  upon  the  fatal  rock. 


PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT.  375 

Here  we  give  Mr.  Moore  full  credit  for  all  his 
abatements  in  regard  to  Lord  Byron's  excesses 
in  his  early  days.  Moore  makes  the  point  very 
strongly,  that  he  was  not,  de  facto,  even  so  bad  as 
many  of  his  associates  ;  and  we  agree  with  him. 
Byron's  physical  organization  was  originally  as 
fine  and  as  sensitive  as  that  of  the  most  delicate 
woman.  He  possessed  the  faculty  of  moral  ideali 
ty  in  a  high  degree  ;  and  he  had  not,  in  the  earlier 
part  of  his  life,  an  attraction  towards  mere  brutal 
vice.  His  physical  sensitiveness  was  so  remark 
able,  that  he  says  of  himself,  "  A  dose  of  salts 
has  the  effect  of  a  temporary  inebriation,  like 
light  champagne,  upon  me."  Yet  this  excep 
tionally  delicately-organized  boy  and  youth  was 
in  a  circle  where  not  to  conform  to  the  coarse 
drinking-customs  of  his  day  was  to  incur  cen 
sure  and  ridicule.  That  he  early  acquired  the 
power  of  bearing  large  quantities  of  liquor  is 
manifested  by  the  record  in  his  Journal,  that,  on 
the  day  when  he  read  the  severe  "  Edinburgh  " 
article  upon  his  schoolboy  poems,  he  drank 
three  bottles  of  claret  at  a  sitting. 


3/6  PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT. 

Yet  Byron  was  so  far"  superior  to  his  times, 
that  some  vague  impulses  to  physiological  pru 
dence  seem  to  have  suggested  themselves  to 
him,  and  been  acted  upon  with  great  vigor.  He 
never  could  have  lived  so  long  as  he  did,  under 
the  exhaustive  process  of  every  kind  of  excess, 
if  he  had  not  re-enforced  his  physical  nature  by 
an  assiduous  care  of  his  muscular  system.  He 
took  boxing-lessons,  and  distinguished  himself 
in  all  athletic  exercises. 

He  also  had  periods  in  which  he  seemed  to 
try  vaguely  to  retrieve  himself  from  dissipation, 
and  to  acquire  self-mastery  by  what  he  called 
temperance. 

But,  ignorant  and  excessive  in  all  his  move 
ments,  his  very  efforts  at  temperance  were  in 
temperate.  From  violent  excesses  in  eating 
and  drinking,  he  would  pass  to  no  less  unnatural 
periods  of  utter  abstinence.  Thus  the  very 
conservative  power  which  Nature  has  of  adapt 
ing  herself  to  any  settled  course  was  lost.  The 
extreme  sensitiveness  produced  by  long  periods 


PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT.  3/7 

of  utter  abstinence  made  the  succeeding  debauch 
more  maddening  and  fatal.  He  was  like  a  fine 
musical  instrument,  whose  strings  were  every 
day  alternating  between  extreme  tension  and 
perfect  laxity.  We  have  in  his  Journal  many 
passages,  .'of  which  the  following  is  a  speci 
men  :  — 

"  I  have  dined  regularly  to-day,  for  the  first  time  since  Sun 
day  last ;  this  being  sabbath  too,  —  all  the  rest,  tea  and  dry 
biscuits,  six  per  diem.  I  wish  to  God  I  had  not  dined,  now  1 
It  kills  me  with  heaviness,  stupor,  and  horrible  dreams ;  and 
yet  it  was  but  a  pint  of  bucellas,  and  fish.  Meat  I  never  touch, 
nor  much  vegetable  diet.  I  wish  I  were*  in  the  country,  to  take 
exercise,  instead  of  being  obliged  to  cool  by  abstinence,  in  lieu 
of  it.  I  should  not  so  much  mind  a  little  accession  of  flesh : 
my  bones  can  well  bear  it.  But  the  worst  -is,  the  Devil  always 
came  with  it,  till  I  starved  him  out ;  and  I  will  not  be  the 
slave  of  any  appetite.  If  I  do  err,  it  shall  be  my  heart,  at 
least,  that  heralds  the  way.  O  my  head  !  how  it  aches  !  The 
horrors  of  digestion !  I  wonder  how  Bonaparte's  dinner 
agrees  with  him."  — Moore's  Life>  vol.  ii.  p.  264. 

From  all  the  contemporary  history  and  litera 
ture  of  the  times,  therefore,  we  have  reason  to 


378  PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT. 

believe  that  Lord  Byron  spoke  the  exact  truth 
when  he  said  to  Medwin,  — 

"  My  own  master  at  an  age  when  I  most  required  a  guide, 
left  to  the  dominion  of  my  passions  when  they  were  the  strong 
est,  with  a  fortune  anticipated  before  I  came  into  possession  of 
it,  and  a  constitution  impaired  by  early  excesses,  I  commenced 
my  travels,  in  1809,  with  a  joyless  indifference  to  the  world  and 
all  that  was  before  me."  —  Medwin^s  Conversations,  p.  42. 

Utter  prostration  of  the  whole  physical  man 
from  intemperate  excess,  the  deadness  to  temp 
tation  which  comes  from  utter  exhaustion,  was 
his  condition,  according  to  himself  and  Moore, 
when  he  first  left  England,  at  twenty-one  years 
of  age. 

In  considering  his  subsequent  history,  'we  are 
to  take  into  account  that  it  was  upon  the  brain 
and  nerve-power,  thus  exhausted  by  early  excess, 
that  the  draughts  of  sudden  and  rapid  literary 
composition  began  to  be  made.  There  was 
something  unnatural  and  unhealthy  in  the  ra 
pidity,  clearness,  and  vigor  with  which  his  va 
rious  works  followed  each  other.  Subsequently 


PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT.  379 

to  the  first  two  cantos  of  "Childe  Harold,"  "The 
Bride  of  Abydos,"  "The  Corsair,"  "The  Giaour," 
"  Lara,"  "  Parisina,"  and  "  The  Siege  of  Corinth," 
all  followed  close  upon  each  other,  in  a  space 
of  less  than  three  years,  and  those  the  three 
most  critical  years  of  his  life.  "  The  Bride  of 
Abydos"  came  out  in  the  autumn  of  1813,  and 
was  written  in  a  week  ;  and  "  The  Corsair  "  was 
composed  in  thirteen  days.  A  few  months 
more  than  a  year  before  his  marriage,  and  the 
brief  space  of  his  married  life,  was  the  period  in 
which  all  this  literary  labor  was  performed,  while 
yet  he  was  running  the  wild  career  of  intrigue 
and  fashionable  folly.  He  speaks  of  "  Lara  "  as 
being  tossed  off  in  the  intervals  between  mas 
querades  and  balls,  &c.  It  is  with  the  physical 
results  of  such  unnatural  efforts  that  we  have 
now  chiefly  to  do.  Every  physiologist  would 
say  that  the  demands  of  such  poems  on  a  healthy 
brain,  in  that  given  space,  must  have  been  ex 
hausting  ;  but  when  we  consider  that  they  were 
checks  drawn  on  a  bank  broken  by  early  extrav- 


380  PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT. 

agance,  and  that  the  subject  was  prodigally 
spending  vital  forces  in  every  other  direction  at 
the  same  time,  one  can  scarcely  estimate  the 
physiological  madness  of  such  a  course  as  Lord 
Byron's. 

It  is  evident  from  his  Journal,  and  Moore's 
account,  that  any  amount  of  physical  force 
which  was  for  the  time  restored  by  his  first  for 
eign  travel  was  recklessly  spent  in  this  period, 
when  he  threw  himself  with  a  mad  recklessness 
into  London  society  in  the  time  just  preceding 
his  marriage.  The  revelations  made  in  Moore's 
Memoir  of  this  period  are  sad  enough  :  those 
to  Medwin  are  so  appalling  as  to  the  state  of 
contemporary  society  in  England,  as  to  require, 
at  least,  the  benefit  of  the  doubt  for  which  Lord 
Byron's  habitual  carelessness  of  truth  gave 
scope.  His  adventures  with  ladies  of  the  high 
est  rank  in  England  are  there  paraded  with  a 
freedom  of  detail  that  respect  for  womanhood 
must  lead  every  woman  to  question.  The  only 
thing  that  is  unquestionable  is,  that  Lord  Byron 


PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT.  381 

made  these  assertions  to  Medwin,  not  as  re 
morseful  confessions,  but  as  relations  of  his 
bonnes  fortunes,  and  that  Medwin  published 
them  in  the  very  face  of  the  society  to  which 
they  related. 

When  Lord  Byron  says,  "  I  have  seen  a  great 
deal  of  Italian  society,  and  swum  in  a  gondola  ; 
but  nothing  could  equal  the  profligacy  of  high 
life  in  England  .  .  .  when  I  knew  it,"  he 
makes  certainly  strong  assertions,  if  we  remem 
ber  what  Mr.  Moore  reveals  of  the  harem  kept 
in  Venice. 

But  when  Lord  Byron  intimates  that  three 
married  women  in  his  own  rank  in  life,  who 
had  once  held  illicit  relations  with  him,  made 
wedding-visits  to  his  wife  at  one  time,  we  must 
hope  that  he  drew  on  his  active  imagination, 
as  he  often  did,  in  his  statements  in  regard  to 
women. 

When  he  relates  at  large  his  amour  with  Lord 
Melbourne's  wife,  and  represents  her  as  pursu 
ing  him  with  an  insane  passion,  to  which-  he 


382  PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT. 

with  difficulty  responded  ;  and  when  he  says  that 
she  tracked  a  rival  lady  to  his  lodgings,  and 
came  into  them  herself,  disguised  as  a  carman, 
—  one  hopes  that  he  exaggerates.  And  what  are 
we  to  make  of  passages  like  this  ?  — 

"  There  was  a  lady  at  that  time,  double  my  own  age,  the 
mother  of  several  children  who  were  perfect  angels,  with  whom 
I  formed  a  liaison  that  continued  without  interruption  for  eight 
months.  She  told  me  she  was  never  in  love  till  she  was  thirty, 
and  I  thought  myself  so  with  her  when  she  was  forty.  I  never 
felt  a  stronger  passion,  which  she  returned  with  equal  ardor.  . .  . 

"  Strange  as  it  may  seem,  she  gained,  as  all  women  do,  an 
influence  over  me  so  strong,  that  I  had  great  difficulty  in  break 
ing  with  her." 

Unfortunately,  these  statements,  though  prob 
ably  exaggerated,  are,  for  substance,  borne  out  in 
the  history  of  the  times.  With  every  possible 
abatement  for  exaggeration  in  these  statements, 
there  remains  still  undoubted  evidence  from 
other  sources  that  Lord  Byron  exercised  a  most 
peculiar  and  fatal  power  over  the  moral  sense  of 
the  women  with  whom  he  was  brought  in  re- 


PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT.  383 

lation  ;  and  -that  love  for  him,  in  many  women, 
became  a  sort  of  insanity,  depriving  them  of  the 
just  use  of  their  faculties.  All  this  makes  his 
fatal  history  both  possible  and  probable. 

Even  the  article  in  "  Blackwood,"  written  in 
1825  for  the  express  purpose  of  vindicating  his 
character,  admits  that  his  name  had  been 
coupled  with  those  of  three,  four,  or  more 
women  of  rank,  whom  it  speaks  of  as  "  licen 
tious,  unprincipled,  characterless  women." 

That  such  a  course,  in  connection  with  alter 
nate  extremes  of  excess  and  abstinence  in  eating 
and  drinking,  and  the  immense  draughts  on  the 
brain-power  of  rapid  and  brilliant  composition, 
should  have  ended  in  that  abnormal  state  in 
which  cravings  for  unnatural  vice  give  indica 
tions  of  approaching  brain-disease,  seems  only 
too  probable. 

This  symptom  of  exhausted  vitality  becomes 
often  a  frequent  type  in  periods  of  very  corrupt 
society.  The  dregs  of  the  old  Greek  and  Ro 
man  civilization  were  foul  with  it  ;  and  the 


384  PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT. 

apostle  speaks  of  the  turning  of  the  use  of 
the  natural  into  that  which  is  against  nature,  as 
the  last  step  in  abandonment. 

The  very  literature  of  such  periods  marks 
their  want  of  physical  and  moral  soundness. 
Having  lost  all  sense  of  what  is  simple  and  nat 
ural  and  pure,  the  mind  delights  to  dwell  on 
horrible  ideas,  which  give  a  shuddering  sense  of 
guilt  and  crime.  All  the  writings  of  this  fatal 
period  of  Lord  Byron's  life  are  more  or  less  in 
tense  histories  of  unrepentant  guilt  and  remorse 
or  of  unnatural  crime.  A  recent  writer  in 
"  Temple  Bar "  brings  to  light  the  fact,  that 
"  The  Bride  of  Abydos,"  the  first  of  the  brilliant 
and  rapid  series  of  poems  which  began  in  the 
period  immediately  preceding  his  marriage,  was, 
in  its  first  composition,  an  intense  story  of  love 
between  a  brother  and  sister  in  a  Turkish  ha 
rem  ;  that  Lord  Byron  declared,  in  a  letter  to 
Gait,  that  it  was  drawn  from  real  life ;  that,  in 
compliance  with  the  prejudices  of  the  age,  he 
altered  the  relationship  to  that  of  cousins  before 
publication. 


PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT.  385 

This  same  writer  goes  on  to  show,  by  a  series 
of  extracts  from  Lord  Byron's  published  letters 
and  journals,  that  his  mind  about  this  time  was 
in  a  fearfully  unnatural  state,  and  suffering  sin 
gular  and  inexplicable  agonies  of  remorse  ;  that, 
though  he  was  accustomed  fearlessly  to  confide 
to  his  friends  immoralities  which  would  be 
looked  upon  as  damning,  there  was  now  a  secret 
to  which  he  could  not  help  alluding  in  his  let 
ters,  but  which  he  told  Moore  he  could  not  tell 
now,  but  "some  day  or  other  when  we  are 
veterans"  He  speaks  of  his  heart  as  eating 
itself  out ;  of  a  mysterious  person,  whom  he  says, 
"  God  knows  I  love  too  well,  and  the  Devil  prob 
ably  too.  He  wrote  a  song,  and  sent  it  to  Moore, 
addressed  to  a  partner  in  some  awful  guilt, 
whose  very  name  he  dares  not  mention,  because 

"  There  is  grief  in  the  sound,  there  is  guilt  in  the  fame." 

He  speaks  of  struggles  of  remorse,  of  efforts 
at  repentance,  and  returns  to  guilt,  with  a  sort 
of  horror  very  different  from  the  well-pleased 


386  PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT. 

air  with  which  he  relates  to  Medwin  his  com 
mon  intrigues  and  adulteries.  He  speaks  of 
himself  generally  as  oppressed  by  a  frightful,  un 
natural  gloom  and  horror,  and,  when  occasionally 
happy,  "  not  in  a  way  that  can  or  ought  to  last." 

"  The  Giaour,"  "  The  Corsair,"  "  Lara,"  "  Pari- 
sina,"  "  The  Siege  of  Corinth,"  and  "  Man 
fred,"  all  written  or  conceived  about  this  period 
of  his  life,  give  one  picture  of  a  desperate, 
despairing,  unrepentant  soul,  whom  suffering 
maddens,  but  cannot  reclaim. 

In  all  these  he  paints  only  the  one  woman,  of 
concentrated,  unconsidering  passion,  ready  to 
sacrifice  heaven  and  defy  hell  for  a  guilty  man, 
beloved  in  spite  of  religion  or  reason.  In  this 
unnatural  literature,  the  stimulus  of  crime  is 
represented  as  intensifying  love.  Medora,  Gul- 
nare,  the  Page  in  "  Lara,"  Parisina,  and  the  lost 
sister  of  Manfred,  love  the  more  intensely 
because  the  object  of  the  love  is  a  criminal,  out 
lawed  by  God  and  man.  The  next  step  beyond 
this  is  —  madness. 


PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT.  387 

The  work  of  Dr.  Forbes  Winslow  on  "  Ob 
scure  Diseases  of  the  Brain  and  Nerves  "  *  con 
tains  a  passage  so  very  descriptive  of  the  case 
of  Lord  Byron,  that  it  might  seem  to  have  been 
written  for  it.  The  sixth  chapter  of  his  work, 
on  "  Anomalous  and  Masked  Affections  of  the 
Mind,"  contains,  in  our  view,  the  only  clew  that 
can  unravel  the  sad  tragedy  of  Byron's  life.  He 
says,  p.  87,  - 

"  These  forms  of  unrecognized  mental  disorder  are  not 
always  accompanied  by  any  well-marked  disturbance  of  the 
bodily  health  requiring  medical  attention,  or  any  obvious  de 
parture  from  a  normal  state  of  thought  and  conduct  such  as 
to  justify  legal  interference;  neither  do  these  affections  always 
incapacitate  the  party  from  engaging  in  the  ordinary  business 
of  life.  .  .  .  The  change  may  have  progressed  insidiously  and 
stealthily,  having  slowly  and  almost  imperceptibly  induced 
important  molecular  modifications  in  the  delicate  vesicular 
neurine  of  the  brain,  ultimately  resulting  in  some  aberration  of 
the  ideas,  alteration  of  the  affections,  or  perversion  of  the  pro 
pensities  or  instincts.  .  .  . 

"  Mental  disorder  of  a  dangerous  character  has  been  known 


*  The  article  in  question    is  worth  a  careful  reading.     Its  industry  and 
accuracy  in  amassing  evidence  are  worthy  attention. 


388  PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT. 

for  years  to  be  stealthily  advancing,  without  exciting  the 
slightest  notion  of  its  presence,  until  some  sad  and  terrible 
catastrophe,  homicide,  or  suicide,  has  painfully  awakened 
attention  to  its  existence.  Persons  suffering  from  latent 
insanity  often  affect  singularity  of  dress,  gait,  conversation,  and 
phraseology.  The  most  trifling  circumstances  stimulate  their 
excitability.  They  are  martyrs  to  ungovernable  paroxysms  of 
passion,  are  inflamed  to  a  state  of  demoniacal  fury  by  the  most 
insignificant  of  causes,  and  occasionally  lose  all  sense  of 
delicacy  of  feeling,  sentiment,  refinement  of  manners  and  con 
versation.  Such  manifestations  of  undetected  mental  disorder 
may  be  seen  associated  with  intellectual  and  moral  qualities  of 
the  highest  order." 

In  another  place,  Dr.  Winslow  again  adverts 
to  this  latter  symptom,  which  was  strikingly 
marked  in  the  case  of  Lord  Byron  :  — 

"  All  delicacy  and  decency  of  thought  are  occasionally 
banished  from  the  mind,  so  effectually  does  the  principle  of 
thought  in  these  attacks  succumb  to  the  animal  instincts  and 
passions.  .  .  . 

"  Such  cases  will  commonly  be  found  associated  with  organic 
predisposition  to  insanity  or  cerebral  disease.  .  .  .  Modifica 
tions  of  the  malady  are  seen  allied  with  genius.  The  biogra 
phies  of  Cowper,  Burns,  Byron,  Johnson,  Pope,  and  Haydon, 


PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT.  389 

establish  that  the  most  exalted  intellectual   conditions   do  not 
escape  unscathed. 

"  In  early  childhood,  this  form  of  mental  disturbance  may,  in 
many  cases, 'be  detected.  To  its  existence  is  often  to  be  traced 
the  motiveless  crimes  of  the  young." 

No  one  can  compare  this  passage  of  Dr. 
Forbes  Winslow  with  the  incidents  we  have 
already  cited  as  occurring  in  that  fatal  period 
before  the  separation  of  Lord  and  Lady  Byron, 
and  not  feel  that  the  hapless  young  wife  was  in 
deed  struggling  with  those  inflexible  natural 

laws,  which,  at  some  stages  of  retribution,  in- 

p 
volve  in   their  awful   sweep  the  guilty  with  the 

innocent.  She  longed  to  save ;  but  he  was 
gone  past  redemption.  Alcoholic  stimulants 
and  licentious  excesses,  without  doubt,  had 
produced  those  unseen  changes  in  the  brain,  of 
which  Dr.  Forbes  Winslow  speaks  ;  and  the  re 
sults  were  terrible  in  proportion  to  the  peculiar 
fineness  and  -delicacy  of  the  organism  deranged. 
Alas  !  the  history  of  Lady  Byron  is  the  his 
tory  of  too  many  women  in  every  rank  of  life 


3QO  PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT. 

who  are  called  in  agonies  of  perplexity  and  fear 
to  watch  that  gradual  process  by  which  physical 
excesses  change  the  organism  of  the  brain,  till 
slow,  creeping,  moral  insanity  comes  on.  The 
woman  who  is  the  helpless  victim  of  cruelties 
which  only  unnatural  states  of  the  brain  could 
invent ;  who  is  heart-sick  to-day,  and  dreads  to 
morrow,  —  looks  in  hopeless  horror  on  the  fatal 
process  by  which  a  lover  and  a  protector  changes 
under  her  eyes,  from  day  to  day,  to  a  brute  and 
a  fiend. 

Lady  Byron's  married  life  —  alas  !  it  is  lived 
over  in  many  a  cottage  and  tenement-house, 
with  no  understanding  on  either  side  of  the 
woful  misery. 

Dr.  Winslow  truly  says,  "  The  science  of  these 
brain-affections  is  yet  in  its  infancy  in  England." 
At  that  time,  it  had  not  even  begun  'to  be.  Mad 
ness  was  a  fixed  point ;  and  the  inquiries  into  it 
had  no  nicety.  Its  treatment,  if  established,  had 
no  redeeming  power.  Insanity  simply  locked  a 
man  up  as  a  dangerous  being  ;  and  the  very 


PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT.  39 1 

suggestion  of  it,  therefore,  was  resented  as  an 
injury. 

A  most  peculiar  and  affecting  feature  of  that 
form  of  brain-disease  which  hurries  its  victim,  as 
by  an  overpowering  mania,  into  crime,  is,  that 

often  the  moral  faculties  and   the  affections  re- 

• 
main  to  a  degree  unimpaired,  and  protest  with  all 

their  strength  against  the  outrage.  Hence  come 
conflicts  and  agonies  of  remorse  proportioned  to 
the  strength  of  the  moral  nature.  Byron,  more 
than  any  other  one  writer,  may  be  called  the 
poet  of  remorse.  His  passionate  pictures  of 
this  feeling  seem  to  give  new  power  to  the 
English  language :  — 

"  There  is  a  war,  a  chaos  of  the  mind, 
When  all  its  elements  convulsed — combined, 
Lie  dark  and  jarring  with  perturbed  force, 
And  gnashing  with  impenitent  remorse 
That  juggling  fiend,  who  never  spake  before, 
But  cries,  '  I  -warned  thee  ! '  when  the  deed  is  o'er." 

It  was  this  remorse  that  formed  the  only  re 
deeming  feature  of  the  case.  Its  eloquence,  its 


3Q2  PHYSIOLOGICAL    ARGUMENT. 

agonies,  won  from  all  hearts  the  interest  that  we 
give  to  a  powerful  nature  in  a  state  of  danger 
and  ruin  ;  and  it  may  be  hoped  that  this  feel 
ing,  which  tempers  the  stern  justice  of  human 
judgments,  may  prove  only  a  faint  image  of  the 
wider  charity  of  Him  whose  thoughts  are  as  far 
above  ours  as  the  heaven  is  above  the  earth. 


CHAPTER    VII. 


HOW    COULD    SHE    LOVE    HIM  f 

T  T  has  seemed,  to  some,  wholly  inconsistent, 
that  Lady  Byron,  if  this  story  were  true, 
could  retain  any  kindly  feeling  for  Lord  Byron, 
or  any  tenderness  for  his  memory ;  that  the  pro 
fession  implied  a  certain  hypocrisy  :  but,  in  this 
sad  review,  we  may  see  how  the  woman  who 
once  had  loved  him,  might,  in  spite  of  every 
wrong  he  had  heaped  upon  her,  still  have  looked 
on  this  awful  wreck  and  ruin  chiefly  with  pity. 
While  she  stood  afar,  and  refused  to  justify 
or  join  in  the  polluted  idolatry  which  defended 
his  vices,  there  is  evidence  in  her  writings  that 
her  mind  often  went  back  mournfully,  as  a 
mother's  would,  to  the  early  days  when  he  might 
have  been  saved. 

393 


394       HOW  COULD  SHE  LOVE  HIM  ?   • 

One  of  her  letters  in  Robinson's  Memoirs, 
in  regard  to  his  religious  opinions,  shows  with 
what  intense  earnestness  she  dwelt  upon  the 
unhappy  influences  of  his  childhood  and  youth, 
and  those  early  theologies  which  led  him  to  re 
gard  himself  as  one  of  the  reprobate.  She 
says,  — 

"  Not  merely  from  casual  expressions,  but  from  the  whole 
tenor  of  Lord  Byron's  feelings,  I  could  not  but  conclude  that  he 
was  a  believer  in  the  inspiration  of  the  Bible,  and  had  the 
gloomiest  Calvinistic  tenets.  To  that  unhappy  view  of  the 
relation  of  the  creature  to  the  Creator  I  haVe  always  ascribed 
the  misery  of  his  life. 

"  It  is  enough  for  me  to  know  that  he  who  thinks  his  trans 
gression  beyond  forgiveness  .  .  .  has  righteousness  beyond  that 
of  the  self-satisfied  sinner.  It  is  impossible  for  me  to  doubt, 
that,  could  he  once  have  been  assured  of  pardon,  his  living  faith 
in  moral  duty,  and  love  of  virtue  ('  I  love  the  virtues  that  I  can 
not  claim'),  would  have  conquered  every  temptation.  Judge, 
then,  how  I  must  hate  the  creed  that 'made  him  see  God  as  an 
Avenger,  and  not  as  a  Father  !  My  own  impressions  were  just 
the  reverse,  but  could  have  but  little  weight ;  and  it  was  in  vain 
to  seek  to  turn  his  thoughts  from  that  fixed  idea  with  which  he 
connected  his  personal  peculiarity  as  a  stamp.  Instead  of  being 
made  happier  by  any  apparent  good,  he  felt  convinced  that 


HOW    COULD    SHE    LOVE    HIM  ?  395 

every  blessing  would  be  turned  into  a  curse  to  him.  .  .  .  '  The 
worst  of  it  is,  I  do  believe,'  he  said.  7,  like  all  connected  with 
him,  was  broken  against  the  rock  of  predestination.  I  may  be 
pardoned  for  my  frequent  reference  to  the  sentiment  (expressed 
by  him),  that  I  was  only  sent  to  show  him  the  happiness  he  was 
forbidden  to  enjoy." 

In  this  letter  we  have  the  heart,  not  of 
the  wife,  but  of  the  mother,  —  the  love  that 
searches  everywhere  for  extenuations  of  the 
guilt  it  is  forced  to  confess. 

That  Lady  Byron  was  not  alone  in  ascribing 
such  results  to  the  doctrines  of  Calvinism,  in 
certain  cases,  appears  from  the  language  of  the 
Thirty-nine  Articles,  w,hich  says,  — 

"  As  the  godly  consideration  of  predestination,  and  our  elec 
tion  in  Christ,  is  full  of  sweet,  pleasant,  and  unspeakable  com 
fort  to  godly  persons,  and  such  as  feel  in  themselves  the  workings 
of  the  spirit  of  Christ ;  ...  so,  for  curious  and  carnal  persons, 
lacking  the  spirit  of  Christ,  to  have  continually  before  their 
eyes  the  sentence  of  God's  predestination,  is  a  most  dangerous 
downfall,  whereby  the  Devil  doth  thrust  them  either  into  des 
peration,  or  into  wretchedness  of  most  unclean  living,  — no  less 
perilous  than  desperation." 


39^  HOW    COULD   SHE   LOVE   HIM  ? 

Lord  Byron's  life  is  an  exact  commentary  on 
these  words,  which  passed  under  the  revision  of 
Calvin  himself. 

The  whole  tone  of  this  letter  shows  not  only 
that  Lady  Byron  never  lost  her  deep  interest  in 
her  husband,  but  that  it  was  by  this  experience 
that  all  her  religious  ideas  were  modified.  There 
is  another  of  these  letters  in  which  she  thus 
speaks  of  her  husband's  writings  and  charac 
ter :  — 

"  The  author  of  the  article  on  "  Goethe  "  appears  to  me  to 
have  the  mind  which  could  dispel  the  illusions  about  another 
poet,  without  depreciating  his  claims  ...  to  the  truest  inspira 
tion. 

"  Who  has  sought  to  distinguish  between  the  holy  and  the 
unholy  in  that  spirit  ?  to  prove,  by  the  very  degradation  of  the 
one,  how  high  the  other  was  ?  A  character  is  never  done  jus 
tice  to  by  extenuating  its  faults  :  so  I  do  not  agree  to  nisi  bonum. 
It  is  kinder  to  read  the  blotted  page." 

These  letters  show  that  Lady  Byron's  idea 
was,  that,  even  were  the  whole  mournful  truth 
about  Lord  Byron  fully  told,  there  was  still  a 
foundation  left  for  pity  and  mercy.  She  seems 


HOW  COULD  SHE  LOVE  HIM  ?       397 

to  have  remembered,  that  if  his  sins  were  pecu 
liar,  so  also  were  his  temptations  ;  and  to  have 
schooled  herself  for  years  to  gather  up,  and  set 
in  order  in  her  memory,  all  that  yet  remained 
precious  in  this  great  ruin.  Probably  no  Eng 
lish  writer  that  ever  has  made  the  attempt 
could  have  done  this  more  perfectly.  Though 
Lady  Byron  was  not  a  poet  par  excellence,  yet 
she  belonged  to  an  order  of  souls  fully  equal  to 
Lord  Byron.  Hers  was  more  the  analytical 
mind  of  the  philosopher  than  the  creative  mind 
of  the  poet ;  and  it  was,  for  that  reason,  the  one 
mind  in  our  day  capable  of  estimating  him  fully 
both  with  justice  and  mercy.  No  person  in 
England  had  a  more  intense  sensibility  to  genius, 
in  its  loftier  acceptation,  than  Lady  Byron  ;  and 
none  more  completely  sympathized  with  what 
was  pure  and  exalted  in  her  husband's  writings. 

There  is  this  peculiarity  in  Lord  Byron,  that 
the  pure  and  the  impure  in  his  poetry  often 
run  side  by  side  without  mixing,  —  as  one  may 
see  at  Geneva  the  muddy  stream  of  the  Arve 


398       HOW  COULD  SHE  LOVE  HIM  ? 

and  the  blue  waters  of  the  Rhone  flowing 
together  unmingled.  What,  for  example,  can  be 
nobler,  and  in  a  higher  and  tenderer  moral 
strain,  than  his  lines  on  the  dying  gladiator,  in 
"  Childe  Harold  "  ?  What  is  more  like  the  vigor 
of  the  old  Hebrew  Scriptures  than  his  thunder 
storm  in  the  Alps  ?  What  can  more  perfectly 
express  moral  ideality  of  the  highest  kind  than 
the  exquisite  descriptions  of  Aurora  Raby, — 
pure  and  high  in  thought  and  language,  occur 
ring,  as  they  do,  in  a  work  full  of  the  most  utter 
vileness  ? 

Lady  Byron's  hopes  for  her  husband  fastened 
themselves  on  all  the  noble  fragments  yet  re 
maining  in  that  shattered  temple  of  his  mind 
which  lay  blackened  and  thunder-riven  ;  and  she 
looked  forward  to  a  sphere  beyond  this  earth, 
where  infinite  mercy  should  bring  all  again  to 
symmetry  and  order.  If  the  strict  theologian 
-must  regret  this  as  an  undue  latitude  of  charity, 
let  it  at  least  be  remembered  that  it  was  a  char 
ity  which  sprang  from  a  Christian  virtue,  and 


HOW    COULD    SHE    LOVE    HIM?  399 


which  she  extended  to  every  human  being,  how 
ever  lost,  however  low.  In  her  view,  the  mercy 
which  took  him  was  mercy  that  could  restore 
all. 

In  my  recollections  of  the  interview  with  Lady 
Byron,  when  this  whole  history  was  presented,  I 
can  remember  that  it  was  with  a  softened  and 
saddened  feeling  that  I  contemplated  the  story, 
as  one  looks  on  some  awful,  inexplicable  ruin. 

The  last  letter  which  I  addressed  to  Lady 
Byron  upon  this  subject  will  show  that  such 
was  the  impression  of  the  whole  interview.  It 
was  in  reply  to  the  one  written  on  the  death  of 
my  son  :  — 

"JAN.  30,  1858. 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND,  —  I  did  long  to  hear  from  you  at  a 
time  when  few  knew  how  to  speak,  because  I  knew  that  ^<?«  had 
known  every  thing  that  sorrow  can  teach,  —  you,  whose  whole 
life  has  been  a  crucifixion,  a  long  ordeal. 

"  But  I  believe  that  the  Lamb,  who  stands  forever  •  in  the 
midst  of  the  throne,  as  it  had  been  slain,'  has  everywhere  his 
followers,  —  those  who  seem  sent  into  the  world,  as  he  was,  to 
suffer  for  the  redemption  of  others  ;  and,  like  him,  they  must 
look  to  the  joy  set  before  them,  —  of  redeeming  others. 


400  HOW    COULD    SHE   LOVE    HIM? 

"  I  often  think  that  God  called  you  to  this  beautiful  and 
terrible  ministry  when  he  suffered  you  to  link  your  destiny  with 
one  so  strangely  gifted  and  so  fearfully  tempted.  Perhaps  the 
reward  that  is  to  meet  you  when  you  enter  within  the  veil 
where  you  must  so  soon  pass  will  be  to  see  that  spirit,  once 
chained  and  defiled,  set  free  and  purified ;  and  to  know  that  to 
you  it  has  been  given,  by  your  life  of  love  and  faith,  to  accom 
plish  this  glorious  change. 

"  I  think  increasingly  on  the  subject  on  which  you  conversed 
with  me  once,  —  the  future  state  of  retribution.  It  is  evident  to 
me  that  the  spirit  of  Christianity  has  produced  in  the  human 
spirit  a  tenderness  of  love  which  wholly  revolts  from  the  old 
doctrine  on  this  subject ;  and  I  observe,  that,  the  more  Christ- 
like  any  one  becomes,  the  more  difficult  it  seems  for  them  to 
accept  it  as  hitherto  presented.  And  yet,  on  the  contrary,  it  was 
Christ  who  said,  '  Fear  Him  that  is  able  to  destroy  soul  and 
body  in  hell ; '  and  the  most  appalling  language  is  that  of  Christ 
himself. 

"  Certain  ideas,  once  prevalent,  certainly  must  be  thrown 
off.  An  endless  infliction  for  past  sins  was  once  the  doctrine  : 
that  we  now  generally  reject.  The  doctrine  now  generally 
taught  is,  that  an  eternal  persistence  in  evil  necessitates  ever 
lasting  "suffering,  since  evil  induces  misery  by  an  eternal  nature 
of  things ;  and  this,  I  fear,  is  inferrible  from  the  analogies 
of  Nature,  and  confirmed  by  the  whole  implication  of  the 
Bible. 

"  What  attention  have  you  given  to  this  subject  ?  and  is  there 


HOW    COULD    SHE    LOVE    HIM  ?  40! 

any  fair  way  of  disposing  of  the  current  of  assertion,  and  the 
still  deeper  under-current  of  implication,  on  this  subject,  without 
admitting  one  which  loosens  all  faith  in  revelation,  and  throws 
us  on  pure  naturalism  ?  But  of  one  thing  I  always  feel  sure  : 
probation  does  not  end  with  this  present  life  ;  and  the  number 
of  the  saved  may  therefore  be  infinitely  greater  than  the  world's 
history  leads  us  to  suppose. 

"  I  think  the  Bible  implies  a  great  crisis,  a  struggle,  an 
agony,  in  which  God  and  Christ  and  all  the  good  are  engaged 
in  redeeming  from  sin ;  and  we  are  not  to  suppose  that  the 
little  portion  that  is  done  for  souls  as  they  pass  between  the 
two  doors  of  birth  and  death  is  all. 

"  The  Bible  is  certainly  silent  there.  The  primitive  Church 
believed  in  the  mercies  of  an  intermediate  state  ;  and  it  was 
only  the  abuse  of  it  by  Romanism  that  drove  the  Church  into 
its  present  position,  which,  I  think,  is  wholly  indefensible,  and 
wholly  irreconcilable  with  the  spirit  of  Christ.  For  if  it  were  the 
case,  that  probation  in  all  cases  begins  and  ends  here,  God's  ex 
ample  would  surely  be  one  that  could  not  be  followed,  and  he 
would  seem  to  be  far  less  persevering*  than  even  human  beings 
in  efforts  to  save. 

"  Nothing  is  plainer  than  that  it  would'  be  wrong  to  give  up 
any  mind  to  eternal  sin  till  every  possible  thing  had  been  done 
for  its  recovery  ;  and  that  is  so  clearly  not  the  case  here,  that  I 
can  see,  that,  with  thoughtful  minds,  this  belief  would  cut  the 
very  roots  of  religious  faith  in  God  :  for  there  is  a  difference 
between  facts  that  we  do  not  understand,  and  facts  which  we  do 
26 


4O2       HOW  COULD  SHE  LOVE  HIM  ? 

understand,  and  perceive  to  be  wholly  irreconcilable  with  a  cer 
tain  character  professed  by  God. 

"  If  God  says  he  is  love,  and  certain  ways  of  explaining 
Scripture  make  him  less  loving  and  patient  than  man,  then  we 
make  Scripture  contradict  itself.  Now,  as  no  passage  of 
Scripture  limits  probation  to  this  life,  and  as  one  passage  in 
Peter  certainly  unequivocally  asserts  that  Christ  preached  to 
the  spirits  in  prison  while  his  body  lay  in  the  grave,  I  am  clear 
upon  this  point. 

"  But  it  is  also  clear,  that  if  there  be  those  who  persist  in 
refusing  God's  love,  who  choose  to  dash  themselves  forever 
against  the  inflexible  laws  of  the  universe,  such  souls  must 
forever  suffer. 

"  There  may  be  souls  who  hate  purity  because  it  reveals 
their  vileness  ;  who  refuse  God's  love,  and  prefer  eternal  conflict 
with  it.  For  such  there  can  be  no  peace.  Even  in  this  life,  we 
see  those  whom  the  purest  self-devoting  love  only  inflames  to 
madness ;  and  we  have  only  to  suppose  an  eternal  persistence 
in  this  to  suppose  eternal  misery. 

"  But  on  this  subject  we  can  only  leave  all  reverently  in  the 
hands  of  that  Being  whose  almighty  power  is  '  declared  chiefly 
in  showing  mercy.' " 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

CONCLUSION. 

T  N  leaving  this  subject,  I  have  one  appeal  to 
make  to  the  men,  and    more   especially  to 
the  women,  who  have  been  my  readers. 

In  justice  to  Lady  Byron,  it  must  be  remem 
bered  that  this  publication  of  her  story  is  not 
her  act,  but  mine.  I  trust  you  have  already  con 
ceded,  that,  in  so  severe  and  peculiar  a  trial,  she 
had  a  right  to  be  understood  fully  by  her  imme 
diate  circle  of  friends,  and  to  seek  of  them  coun 
sel  in  view  of  the  moral  questions  to  which  such 
very  exceptional  circumstances  must  have  given 
rise.  Her  communication  to  me  was  not  an 
address  to  the  public :  it  was  a  statement  of 
the  case  for  advice.  True,  by  leaving  the  whole, 

403 


404  CONCLUSION. 

unguarded  by  pledge  or  promise,  it  left  discre 
tionary  power  with  me  to  use  if  needful. 

You,  my  sisters,  are  to  judge  whether  the 
accusation  laid  against  Lady  Byron  by  the 
"  Blackwood,"  in  1869,  was  not  of  so  barbarous 
a  nature  as  to  justify  my  producing  the  truth  I 
held  in  my  hands  in  reply. 

The  "  Blackwood  "  claimed  a  right  to  re-open 
the  subject  because  it  was  not  a  private  but  a 
public  matter.  It  claimed  that  Lord  Byron's 
unfortunate  marriage  might  have  changed  not 
only  his  own  destiny,  but  that  of  all  England. 
It  suggested,  that  but  for  this,  instead  of  wear 
ing  out  his  life  in  vice,  and  corrupting  society  by 
impure  poetry,  he  might,  at  this  day,  have  been 
leading  the  counsels  of  the  State,  and  helping 
the  onward  movements  of  the  world.  Then 
directly  it  charged  Lady  Byron  with  meanly  for 
saking  her  husband  in  a  time  of  worldly  mis 
fortune  ;  with  fabricating  a  destructive  accusa 
tion  of  crime  against  him,  and  confirming  this 
accusation  by  years  of  persistent  silence  more 
guilty  than  open  assertion. 


CONCLUSION.  405 

It  has  been  alleged,  that,  even  admitting  that 
Lady  Byron's  story  were  true,  it  never  ought  to 
have  been  told. 

Is  it  true,  then,  that  a  woman  has  not  the  same 
right  to  individual  justice  that  a  man  has  ?  If  the 
cases  were  reversed,  would  it  have  been  thought 
just  that  Lord  Byron  should  go  down  in  history 
loaded  with  accusations  of  crime  because  he 
could  be  only  vindicated  by  exposing  the  crime 
of  his  wife  ? 

It  has  been  said  that  the  crime  charged  on 
Lady  Byron  was  comparatively  unimportant,  and 
the  one  against  Lord  Byron  was  deadly. 

But  the  "  Blackwood,"  in  opening  the  contro 
versy,  called  Lady  Byron  by  the  name  of  an 
unnatural  female  criminal,  whose  singular  atroci 
ties  alone  entitle  her  to  infamous  notoriety  ;  and 
the  crime  charged  upon  her  was  sufficient  to 
warrant  the  comparison: 

Both  crimes  are  foul,  unnatural,  horrible  ;  and 
there  is  no  middle  ground  between  the  admission 
of  the  one  or  the  other. 


406  CONCLUSION. 

You  must  either  conclude  that  a  woman,  all 
whose  other  works,  words,  and  deeds  were  gen 
erous,  just,  and  gentle,  committed  this  one  mon 
strous  exceptional  crime,  without  a  motive,  and 
against  all  the  analogies  of  her  character  and 
all  the  analogies  of  her  treatment  of  others  ;  or 
you  must  suppose  that  a  man  known  by  all  tes 
timony  to  have  been  boundlessly  licentious,  who 
took  the  very  course,  which,  by  every  physiologi 
cal  law,  would  have  led  to  unnatural  results,  did, 
at  last,  commit  an  unnatural  crime. 

The  question,  whether  I  did  right,  when  Lady 
Byron  was  thus  held  up  as  an  abandoned  crimi 
nal  by  the  "  Blackwood,"  to  interpose  my  knowl 
edge  of  the  real  truth  in  her  defence,  is  a  serious 
one  ;  but  it  is  one  for  which  I  must  account  to 
God  alone,  and  in  which,  without  any  contempt 
of  the  opinions  of  my  fellow-creatures,  I  must 
say,  that  it  is  a  small  thing  to  be  judged  of  man's 
judgment. 

I  had  in  the  case  a  responsibility  very  dif 
ferent  from  that  of  many  others.  I  had  been 


CONCLUSION.  407 

consulted  in  relation  to  the  publication  of  this 
story  by  Lady  Byron,  a-t  a  time  when  she  had  it 
in  her  power  to  have  exhibited  it  with  all  its 
proofs,  and  commanded  an  instant  conviction. 
I  have  reason  to  think  that  my  advice  had 
some  weight  in  suppressing  that  disclosure.  I 
gave  that  advice  under  the  impression  that  the 
Byron  controversy  was  a  thing  forever  passed, 
and  never  likely  to  return. 

It  had  never  occurred  to  me,  that,  nine  years 
after  Lady  Byron's  death,  a  standard  English 
periodical  would  declare  itself  free  to  re-open 
this  controversy,  when  all  the  generation  who 
were  her  witnesses  had  passed  from  earth  ;  and 
that  it  would  re-open  it  in  the  most  savage  form 
of  accusation,  and  with  the  indorsement  and 
commendation  of  a  book  of  the  vilest  slanders, 
edited  by  Lord  Byron's  mistress. 

Let  the  reader  mark  the  retributions  of  justice. 
The  accusations  of  the  "  Blackwood,"  in  1869, 
were  simply  an  intensified  form  of  those  first 
concocted  by  Lord  Byron  in  his  "  Clytemnestra  " 


408  CONCLUSION. 

poem  of  1816.  He  forged  that  weapon,  and  be 
queathed  it  to  his  party.  The  "  Blackwood  " 
took  it  up,  gave  it  a  sharper  edge,  and  drove  it  to 
the  heart  of  Lady  Byron's  fame.  The  result  has 
been  the  disclosure  of  this  history.  It  is,  then, 
Lord  Byron  himself,  who,  by  his  network  of 
wiles,  his  ceaseless  persecutions  of  his  wife,  his 
efforts  to  extend  his  partisanship  beyond  the 
grave,  has  brought  on  this  tumultuous  exposure. 
He,  and  he  alone,  is  the  cause  of  this  revela 
tion. 

And  now  I  have  one  word  to  say  to  those  in 
England,  who,  with  all  the  facts  and  documents 
in  their  hands  which  could  at  once  have  cleared 
Lady  Byron's  fame,  allowed  the  barbarous  assault 
of  the  "  Blackwood "  to  go  over  the  civilized 
world  without  a  reply.  I  speak  to  those,  who, 
knowing  that  I  am  speaking  the  truth,  stand 
silent  ;  to  those  who  have  now  the  ability  to 
produce  the  facts  and  documents  by  which  this 
cause  might  be  instantly  settled,  and  who  do  not 
produce  them. 


CONCLUSION.  409 

I  do  not  judge  them  ;  but  I  remind  them  that 
a  day  is  coming  when  they  and  I  must  stand 
side  by  side  at  the  great  judgment-seat,  —  I  to 
give  an  account  for  my  speaking,  they  for  their 
silence. 

In  that  day,  all  earthly  considerations  will 
have  vanished  like  morning  mists,  and  truth  or 
falsehood,  justice  or  injustice,  will  be  the  only 
realities. 

In  that  day,  God,  who  will  judge  the  secrets 
of  all  men,  will  judge  between  this  man  and  this 
woman.  Then,  if  never  before,  the  full  truth 
shall  be  told  both  of  the  depraved  and  dissolute 
man  who  made  it  his  life's  object  to  defame  the 
innocent,  the  silent,  the  self-denying  woman  who 
made  it  her  life's  object  to  give  space  for  repent 
ance  to  the  guilty. 


PART   III. 


CONTAINING    MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS    REFERRED 
TO   IN  THE   FOREGOING  CHAPTERS. 


PART      III. 

MISCELLANEOUS   DOCUMENTS. 


THE     TRUE     STORY     OF     LADY     BYRON'S     LIFE, 

AS   ORIGINALLY    PUBLISHED   IN    "THE   ATLANTIC   MONTHLY." 

THE  reading  world  of  America  has  lately  been  presented 
with  a  book  which  is  said  to  sell  rapidly,  and  which  appears  to 
meet  with  universal  favor; 

The  subject  of  the  book  may  be  thus  briefly  stated  :  The  mis 
tress  of  Lord  Byron  comes  before  the  world  for  the  sake  of 
vindicating  his  fame  from  slanders  and  aspersions  cast  on  him 
by  his  wife.  The  story  of  the  mistress  versus  wife  may  be 
summed  up  as  follows  :  — 

Lord  Byron,  the  hero  of  the  story,  is  represented  as  a  human 
being  endowed  with  every  natural  charm,  gift,  and  grace,  who, 
by  the  one  false  step  of  an  unsuitable  marriage,  wrecked  his 
whole  life.  A  narrow-minded,  cold-hearted  precisian,  without 
sufficient  intellect  to  comprehend  his  genius,  or  heart  to  feel  for 
his  temptations,  formed  with  him  one  of  those  mere  worldly 
marriages  common  in  high  life  ;  and,  finding  that  she  could  not 
reduce  him  to  the  mathematical  proprieties  and  conventional 
rules  of  her  own  mode  of  life,  suddenly,  and  without  warning, 
abandoned  him  in  the  most  cruel  and  inexplicable  manner. 

It  is  alleged  that  she  parted  from  him  in  apparent  affection 
and  good-humor,  wrote  him  a  playful,  confiding  letter  upon  the 

413 


414    •  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 

way,  but,  after  reaching  her  father's  house,  suddenly,  and  with 
out  explanation,  announced  to  him  that  she  would  never  see 
him  again  ;  that  this  sudden  abandonment  drew  down  upon 
him  a  perfect  storm  of  scandalous  stories,  which  his  wife  never 
contradicted  ;  that  she  never  in  any  way  or  shape  stated  what 
the  exact  reasons  for  her  departure  had  been,  and  thus  silently 
gave  scope  to  all  the  maliqe  of  thousands  of  enemies.  The 
sensitive  victim  was  actually  driven  from  England,  his  home 
broken  up,  and  he  doomed  to  be  a  lonely  wanderer  on  foreign 
shores. 

In  Italy,  under  bluer  skies,  and  among  a  gentler  people,  with 
more  tolerant  modes  of  judgment,  the  authoress  intimates  that 
he  found  peace  and  consolation.  A  lovely  young  Italian  count 
ess  falls  in  love  with  him,  and,  breaking  her  family  ties  for  his 
sake,  devotes  herself  to  him ;  and,  in  blissful  retirement  with  her, 
he  finds  at  last  that  domestic  life  for  which  he  was  so  fitted. 

Soothed,  calmed,  and  refreshed,  he  writes  "  Don  Juan,"  which 
the  world  is  at  this  late  hour  informed  was  a  poem  with  a  high 
moral  purpose,  designed  to  be  a  practical  illustration  of  the 
doctrine  of  total  depravity  among  young  gentlemen  in  high 
life. 

Under  the  elevating  influence  of  love,  he  rises  at  last  to 
higher  realms  of  moral  excellence,  and  resolves  to  devote  the 
rest  of  his  life  to  some  noble  and  heroic  purpose  ;  becomes  the 
savior  of  Greece ;  and  dies  untimely,  leaving  a  nation  to  mourn 
his  loss. 

The  authoress  dwells  with  a  peculiar  bitterness  on  Lady 
Byron's  entire  silence  during  all  these  years,  as  the  most  aggra 
vated  form  of  persecution  and  injury.  She  informs  the  world 
that  Lord  Byron  wrote  his  Autobiography  with  the  purpose  of 
giving  a  fair  statement  of  the  exact  truth  in  the  whole  matter ; 
and  that  Lady  Byron  bought  up  the  manuscript  of  the  publisher, 
and  insisted  on  its  being  destroyed,  unread ;  thus  inflexibly 
depriving  her  husband  of  his  last  chance  of  a  hearing  before 
the  tribunal  of  the  public. 

As  a  result  of  this  silent,  persistent  cruelty  on  the  part  of  a 
cold,  correct,  narrow-minded  woman,  the  character  of  Lord 
Byron  has  been  misunderstood,  and  his  name  transmitted  to 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  415 

after-ages  clouded  with  aspersions  and  accusations  which  it  is 
the  object  of  this  book  to  remove. 

Such  is  the  story  of  Lord  Byron's  mistress,  —  a  story  which 
is  going  the  length  of  this  American  continent,  and  rousing  up 
new  sympathy  with  the  poet,  and  doing  its  best  to  bring  the 
youth  of  America  once  more  under  the  power  of  that  brilliant, 
seductive  genius,  from  which  it  was  hoped  they  had  escaped. 
Already  we  are  seeing  it  revamped  in  magazine-articles,  which 
take  up  the  slanders  of  the  paramour  and  enlarge  on  them,  and 
wax  eloquent  in  denunciation  of  the  marble-hearted,  insensible 
wife. 

All  this  while,  it  does  not  appear  to  occur  to  the  thousands 
of  unreflecting  readers  that  they  are  listening  merely  to  the 
story  of  Lord  Byron's  mistress  and  of  Lord  Byron  ;  and  that, 
even  by  their  own  showing,  their  heaviest  accusation  against 
Lady  Byron  is  that  she  has  not  spoken  at  all.  Her  story  has 
never  been  told. 

For  many  years  after  the  rupture  between  Lord  Byron  and 
his  wife,  that  poet's  personality,  fate,  and  happiness  had  an 
interest  for  the  whole  civilized  world,  which,  we  will  venture  to 
say,  was  unparalleled.  It  is  within  the  writer's  recollection, 
how,  in  the  obscure  mountain-town  where  she  spent  her  early 
days,  Lord  Byron's  separation  from  his  wife  was,  for  a  season, 
the  all-engrossing  topic. 

She  remembers  hearing  her  father  recount  at  the  breakfast- 
table  the  facts  as  they  were  given  in  the  public  papers,  together 
with  his  own  suppositions  and  theories  of  the  causes. 

Lord  Byron's  "  Fare  thee  well,"  addressed  to  Lady  Byron, 
was  set  to  music,  and  sung  with  tears  by  young  school-girls, 
even  in  this  distant  America. 

Madame  de  Stael  said  of  this  appeal,  that  she  was  sure  it 
would  have  drawn  her  at  once  to  his  heart  and  his  arms  ;  she 
could  have  forgiven  every  thing  :  and  so  said  all  the  young 
ladies  all  over  the  world,  not  only  in  England,  but  in  France 
and  Germany,  wherever  Byron's  poetry  appeared  in  transla 
tion. 

Lady  Byron's  obdurate  cold-heartedness  in  refusing  even  to 


416  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 

listen  to  his  .prayers,  or  to  have  any  intercourse  with  him  whi^ch 
might  lead  to  reconciliation,  was  the  one  point  conceded  on  all 
sides. 

The  stricter  moralists  defended  her  ;  but  gentler  hearts 
throughout  all  the  world  regarded  her  as  a  marble-hearted 
monster  of  correctness  and  morality,  a  personification  of  the 
law  unmitigated  by  the  gospel. 

Literature  in  its  highest  walks  busied  itself  with  Lady  Byron. 
Hogg,  in  the  character  of  the  Ettrick  Shepherd,  devotes  sev 
eral  eloquent  passages  to  expatiating  on  the  conjugal  fidelity 
of  a  poor  Highland  shepherd's  wife,  who,  by  patience  and 
prayer  and  forgiveness,  succeeds  in  reclaiming  her  drunken 
husband,  and  making  a  good  man  of  him  ;  and  then  points  his 
moral  by  contrasting  with  this  touching  picture  the  cold-heart 
ed,  pharisaical  correctness  of  Lady  Byron. 

Moore,  in  his  "  Life  of  Lord  Byron,"  when  beginning  the 
recital  of  the  series  of  disgraceful  amours  which  formed  the 
staple  of  his  life  in  Venice,  has  this  passage  :  — 

"  Highly  censurable  in  point  of  morality  and  decorum  as 

was  his  course  of  life  while  under  the  roof  of  Madame , 

it  was  (with  pain  I  am  forced  to  confess)  venial  in  comparison 
with  the  strange,  headlong  career  of  license  to  which,  when 
weaned  from  that  connection,  he  so  unrestrainedly,  and,  it  may 
be  added,  defyingly  abandoned  himself.  Of  the  state  of  his 
mind  on  leaving  England,  I  have  already  endeavored  to  convey 
some  idea  ;  and  among  the  feelings  that  went  to  make  up  that 
self-centred  spirit  of  resistance  which  he  then  opposed  to  his 
fate  was  an  indignant  scorn  for  his  own  countrymen  for  the 
wrongs  lie  thought  they  had  done  him.  For  a  time,  the  kindly 
sentijnents  which  he  still  harbored  toward  Lady  Byron,  and  a  sort 
of  vague  hope,  perhaps,  that  all  would  yet  come  right  again,  kept 
his  mind  in  a  mood  somewhat  more  softened  and  docile,  as  well 
as  sufficiently  under  the  influence  of  English  opinions  to  pre 
vent  his  breaking  out  into  open  rebellion  against  it,  as  he  un 
luckily  did  afterward. 

"  By  the  failure  of  the  attempted  mediation  with  Lady  Byron, 
his  last  link  with  home  was  severed  :  while,  notwithstanding  the 
quiet  and  unobtrusive  life  which  he  led  at  Geneva,  there  was  as 


MISCELLANEOUS   DOCUMENTS. 


yet,  he  found,  no  cessation  of  the  slanderous  warfare  against  his 
character  ;  the  same  busy  and  misrepresenting  spirit  which  had 
tracked  his  every  step  at  home,  having,  with  no  less  malicious 
watchfulness,  dogged  him  into  exile." 

We  should  like  to  know  what  the  misrepresentations  and 
slanders  must  have  been,  when  this  sort  of  thing  is  admitted  in 
Mr.  Moore's  justification.  It  seems  to  us  rather  wonderful  how 
anybody,  unless  it  were  a  person  like  the  Countess  Guiccioli, 
could  misrepresent  a  life  such  as  even  Byron's  friend  admits  he 
was  leading. 

During  all  these  years,  when  he  was  setting  at  defiance  every 
principle  of  morality  and  decorum,  the  interest  of  the  female 
mind  all  over  Europe  in  the  conversion  of  this  brilliant  prodigal 
son  was  unceasing,  and  reflects  the  greatest  credit  upon  the 
faith  of  the  sex. 

Madame  de  Stae'l  commenced  the  first  effort  at  evangelization 
immediately  after  he  left  England,  and  found  her  catechumen  in 
a  most  edifying  state  of  humility.  He  was,  metaphorically,  on 
his  knees  in  penitence,  and  confessed  himself  a  miserable  sin 
ner  in  the  loveliest  manner  possible.  Such  sweetness  and  hu 
mility  took  all  hearts.  His  conversations  with  Madame  de  Stael 
were  printed,  and  circulated  all  over  the  world  ;  making  it  to 
appear  that  only  the  inflexibility  of  Lady  Byron  stood  in  the 
way  of  his  entire  conversion. 

Lady  Blessington,  among  many  others,  took  him  in  hand  five 
or  six  years  afterward,  and  was  greatly  delighted  with  his  docil 
ity,  and  edified  by  his  frank  and  free  confessions  of  his  miserable 
offences.  Nothing  now  seemed  wanting  to  bring  the  wanderer 
home  to  the  fold  but  a  kind  word  from  Lady  Byron.  But, 
when  the  fair  countess  offered  to  mediate,  the  poet  only  shook 
his  head  in  tragic  despair  ;  "  he  had  so  many  times  tried  in 
vain  ;  Lady  Byron's  course  had  been  from  the  first  that  of 
obdurate  silence." 

Any  one  who  would  wish  to  see  a  specimen  of  the  skill  of 
the  honorable  poet  in  mystification  will  do  well  to  read  a  letter 
to  Lady  Byron,  which  Lord  Byron,  on  parting  from  Lady  Bles 
sington,  enclosed  for  her  to  read  just  before  he  went  to  Greece. 
He  says,  — 


41 8  MISCELLANEOUS   DOCUMENTS. 


"The  letter  which  I  enclose  I  was  prevented  from  sending  by 
my  despair  of  its  doing  any  good.  I  was  perfectly  sincere  when 
I  wrote  it,  and  am  so  still.  But  it  is  difficult  for  me  to  with 
stand  the  thousand  provocations  on  that  subject  which  both 
friends  and  foes  have  for  seven  years  been  throwing  in  the  way 
•  of  a  man  whose  feelings  were  once  quick,  and  whose  temper 
was  never  patient." 

"  TO  LADY  BYRON,  CARE  OF  THE  HON.  MRS.  LEIGH,  LONDON. 

"  PISA,  Nov.  17,  1821. 

"  I  have  to  acknowledge  the  receipt  of  '  Ada's  hair,'  which 
is  very  soft  and  pretty,  and  nearly  as  dark  already  as  mine  was 
at  twelve  years  old,  if  I  may  judge  from  what  I  recollect  of 
some  in  Augusta's  possession,  taken  at  that  age.  But  it  don't 
curl,  — perhaps  from  its  being  let  grow. 

"  I  also  thank  you  for  the  inscription  of  the  date  and  name  ; 
and  I  will  tell  you  why  :  I  believe  that  they  are  the  only  two 
or  three  words  of  your  handwriting  in  my  possession.  For 
your  letters  I  returned  ;  and  except  the  two  words,  or  rather 
the  one  word,  '  Household,'  written  twice  in  an  old  account- 
book,  I  have  no  other.  I  burnt  your  last  note,  for  two  reasons  : 
firstly,  it  was  written  in  a  style  not  very  agreeable  ;  and,  sec 
ondly,  I  wished  to  take  your  word  without  documents,  which 
are  the  worldly  resources  of  suspicious  people. 

"  I  suppose  that  this  note  will  reach  you  somewhere  about 
kAda's  birthday,  —  the  loth  of  December,  I  believe.  She  will 
then  be  six :  so  that,  in  about  twelve  more,  I  shall  have  some 
chance  of  meeting  her  ;  perhaps  sooner,  if  I  am  obliged  to  go 
to  England  by  business  or  otherwise.  Recollect,  however,  one 
thing,  either  in  distance  or  nearness,  — every  day  which  keeps 
us  asunder  should,  after  so  long  a  period,  rather  soften  our 
mutual  feelings ;  which  must  always  have  one  rallying-point 
a*  long  as  our  child  exists,  which,  I  presume,  we  both  hope  will 
be  long  after  either  of  her  parents. 

"  The  time  which  has  elapsed  since  the  separation  has  been 
considerably  more  than  the  whole  brief  period  of  our  union, 
and  the  not  much  longer  one  of  our  prior  acquaintance.  We 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  419 

both  made  a  bitter  mistake  ;  but  now  it  is  over,  and  irrevocably 
so.  For  at  thirty-three  on  my  part,  and  a  few  years  less  on 
yours,  though  it  is  no  very  extended  period  of  life,  still  it  is 
one  when  the  habits  and  thought  are  generally  so  formed  as  to 
admit  of  no  modification  ;  and,  as  we  could  not  agree  when 
younger,  we  should  with  difficulty  do  so  now. 

"  I  say  all  this,  because  I  own  to  you,  that,  notwithstanding 
every  thing,  I  considered  our  re-union  as  not  impossible  for 
more  than  a  year  after  the  separation  ;  but  then  I  gave  up  the 
hope  entirely  and  forever.  But  this  very  impossibility  of  re 
union  seems  to  me  at  least  a  reason  why,  on  all  the  few  points  of 
discussion  which  can  arise  between  us,  we  should  preserve  the 
courtesies  of  life,  and  as  much  of  its  kindness  as  people  who 
are  never  to  meet  may  preserve,  —  perhaps  more  easily  than 
nearer  connections.  For  my  own  part,  I  am  violent,  but  not 
malignant ;  for  only  fresh  provocations  can  awaken  my  resent 
ments.  To  you,  who  are  colder  and  more  concentrated,  I  would 
just  hint,  that  you  may  sometimes  mistake  the  depth  of  a  cold 
anger  for  dignity,  and  a  worse  feeling  for  duty.  I  assure  you 
that  I  bear  you  now  (whatever  I  may  have  done)  no  resentment 
whatever.  Remember,  that,  if  you  have  injured  me  in  aught,  this 
forgiveness  is  something  ;  and  that,  if  I  have  injured  yoii,  it  is 
something  more  still,  if  it  be  true,  as  the  moralists  say,  that  the 
most  offending  are  the  least  forgiving. 

"  Whether  the  offence  has  been  solely  on  my  side,  or  recip 
rocal,  or  on  yours  chiefly,  I  have  ceased  to  reflect  upon  any 
but  two  things  ;  viz.,  that  you  are  the  mother  of  my  child,  and 
that  we  shall  never  meet  again.  I  think,  if  you  also  consider 
the  two  corresponding  points  with  reference  to  myself,  it  will 
be  better  for  all  three. 

"  Yours  ever,  "  NOEL  BYRON." 

The  artless  Thomas  Moore  introduces  this  letter  in  the 
"  Life  "  with  the  remark,  — 

"  There  are  few,  I  should  think,  of  my  readers,  who  will  not 
agree  with  me  in  pronouncing,  that,  if  the  author  of  the  follow 
ing  letter  had  not  right  on  his  side,  he  had  at  least  most  of  those 
good  feelings  which  are  found  in  general  to  accompany  it." 


42O  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 

The  reader  is  requested  to  take  notice  of  the  important  ad 
mission,  that  the  letter  was  never  sent  to  Lady  Byron  at  all.  It 
was,  in  fact,  never  intended  for  her,  but  was  a  nice  little  dra 
matic  performance,  composed  simply  with  the  view  of  acting  on 
the  sympathies  of  Lady  Blessington  and  Byron's  numerous 
female  admirers  ;  and  the  reader  will  agree  with  its,  we  think, 
that,  in  this  point  of  view,  it  was  very  neatly  done,  and  deserves 
immortality  as  a  work  of  high  art.  For  six  years,  he  had  been 
plunging  into  every  kind  of  vice  and  excess,  pleading  his  shat 
tered  domestic  joys,  and  his  wife's  obdurate  heart;  as  the  apol 
ogy  and  the  impelling  cause  ;  filling  the  air  with  his  shrieks  and 
complaints  concerning  the  slander  which  pursued  him,  while  he 
filled  letters  to  his  confidential  correspondents  with  records  of 
new  mistresses.  During  all  these  years,  the  silence  of  Lady 
Byron  was  unbroken  ;  though  Lord  Byron  not  only  drew  in 
private  on  the  sympathies  of  his  female  admirers,  but  employed 
his  talents  and  position  as  an  author  in  holding  her  up  to 
contempt  and  ridicule  before  thousands  of  readers.  We  shall 
quote  at  length  his  side  of  the  story,  which  he  published  in  the 
first  canto  of  "  Don  Juan,"  that  the  reader  may  see  how  much 
reason  he  had  for  assuming  the  injured  tone  which  he  did  in 
the  letter  to  Lady  Byron  quoted  above.  That  letter  never  was 
sent  to  her ;  and  the  unmanly  and  indecent  caricature  of  her, 
and  the  indelicate  exposure  of  the  whole  story  on  his  own  side, 
which  we  are  about  to  quote,  were  the  only  communications 
that  could  have  reached  her  solitude. 

In  the  following  verses,  Lady  Byron  is  represented  as  Donna 
Inez,  and  Lord  Byron  as  Don  Jose  ;  but  the  incidents  and 
allusions  were  so  very  pointed,  that  nobody  for  a  moment 
doubted  whose  history  the  poet  was  narrating. 

"  His  mother  was  a  learned  lady,  famed 

For  every  branch  of  every  science  known 
In  every  Christian  language  ever  named, 

With  virtues  equalled  by  her  wit  alone  ; 
She  made  the  cleverest  people  quite  ashamed  ; 

And  even  the  good  with  inward  envy  groaned, 
Finding  themselves  so  very  much  exceeded 
In  their  own  way  by  all  the  things  that  she  did. 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  421 


Her  favorite  science  was  the  mathematical ; 

Her  noblest  virtue  was  her  magnanimity  ; 
Her  wit  (she  sometimes  tried  at  wit)  was  Attic  all ; 

Her  serious  sayings  darkened  to  sublimity  : 
In  short,  in  all  things  she  was  fairly  what  I  call 

A  prodigy.  Her  morning-dress  was  dimity  ; 
Her  evening,  silk  ;  or,  in  the  summer,  muslin, 
And  other  stuffs  witl* which  I  won't  stay  puzzling. 

Some  women  use  their  tongues  :  she  looked  a  lecture, 
Each  eye  a  sermon,  and  her  brow  a  homily, 

An  all-in-all  sufficient  self-director, 

Like  the  lamented  late  Sir  Samuel  Romilly. 


In  short,  she  was  a  walking  calculation,  — 
Miss  Edgeworth's  novels  stepping  from  their  covers, 

Or  Mrs.  Trimmer's  books  on  education, 
Or  Cceleb's  wife  set  out  in  quest  of  lovers, 

Morality's  prim  personification, 

In  which  not  envy's  self  a  flaw  discovers. 

To  others'  share  'let  female  errors  fall ; ' 

For  she  had  not  even  one,  — the  worst  of  all. 

Oh  1  she  was  perfect,  past  all  parallel 
Of  any  modern  female  saint's  comparison  ; 

So  far  above  the  cunning  powers  of  hell, 
Her  guardian  angel  had  given  up  his  garrison  : 

Even  her  minutest  motions  went  as  well 
As  those  of  the  best  timepiece  made  by  Harrison  ; 

In  virtues,  nothing  earthly  could  surpass  her 

Save  thine  '  incomparable  oil,'  Macassar. 

Perfect  she  was  ;  but  as  perfection  is 
Insipid  in  this  naughty  world  of  ours, 


Don  Jose,  like  a  lineal  son  of  Eve, 

Went  plucking  various  fruits  without  her  leave. 

He  was  a  mortal  of  the  careless  kind, 

With  no  great  love  for  learning  or  the  learned, 

Who  chose  to  go  where'er  he  had  a  mind, 
And  never  dreamed  his  lady  was  concerned. 

The  world,  as  usual,  wickedly  inclined 
To  see  a  kingdom  or  a  house  o'erturned, 


422  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 


Whispered  he  had  a  mistress  ;  some  said  two: 
But,  for  domestic  quarrels,  one  will  do. 

Now,  Donna  Inez  had,  with  all  her  merit, 
A  great  opinion  of  her  own  good  qualities : 

Neglect,  indeed,  requires  a  saint  to  bear  it ; 
And  such  indeed  she  was  in  her  moralities : 

But  then  she  had  a  devil  of  a  spirit, 
And  sometimes  mixed  up  fancies  with  realities, 

And  let  few  opportunities  escape 

Of  getting  her  liege  lord  into  a  scrape. 

This  was  an  easy  matter  with  a  man 

Oft  in  the  wrong,  and  never  on  his  guard  : 

And  even  the  wisest,  do  the  best  they  can, 

Have  moments,  hours,  and  days  so  unprepared, 

That  you  might '  brain  them  with  their  lady's  fan  ; ' 
And  sometimes  ladies  hit  exceeding  hard, 

And  fans  turn  into  falchions  in  fair  hands, 

And  why  and  wherefore  no  one  understands. 

'Tis  a  pity  learned  virgins  ever  wed 
With  persons  of  no  sort  of  education  ; 

Or  gentlemen,  who,  though  well  born  and  bred, 
Grow  tired  of  scientific  conversation. 

I  don't  choose  to  say  much  upon  this  head  ; 
I'm  a  plain  man,  and  in  a  single  station  : 

But,  O  ye  lords  of  ladies  intellectual ! 

Inform  us  truly,  have  they  not  henpecked  you  all  ? 


Don  Jose  and  the  Donna  Inez  led 
For  some  time  an  unhappy  sort  of  life, 

Wishing  each  other  not  divorced,  but  dead  : 
They  lived  respectably  as  man  and  wife  ; 

Their  conduct  was  exceedingly  well  bred, 
And  gave  no  outward  sign  of  inward  strife  ; 

Until  at  length  the  smothered  fire  broke  out, 

And  put  the  business  past  all  kind  of  doubt. 

For  Inez  called  some  druggists  and  physicians, 
And  tried  to  prove  her  loving  lord  was  mad  ; 

But,  as  he  had  some  lucid  intermissions, 
She  next  decided  he  was  only  bad. 

Yet,  when  they  asked  her  for  her  depositions, 
No  sort  of  explanation  could  be  had , 


MISCELLANEOUS   DOCUMENTS.  423 


Save  that  her  duty  both  to  man  and  God     * 
Required  this  conduct  ;  which  seemed  very  odd. 

She  kept  a  journal  where  his  faults  were  noted, 
And  opened  certain  trunks  of  books  and  letters, 

(All  which  might,  if  occasion  served,  be  quoted  ;) 
And  then  she  had  all  Seville  for  abettors, 

Besides  her  good  old  grandmother  (who  doted)  : 
The  hearers  of  her  case  became  repeaters, 

Then  advocates,  inquisitors,  and  judges, — 

Some  for  amusement,  others  for  old  grudges. 

And  then  this  best  and  meekest  woman  bore 
With  such  serenity  her  husband's  woes  ! 

Just  as  the  Spartan  ladies  did  of  yore, 

Who  saw  their  spouses  killed,  and  nobly  chose 

Never  to  say  a  word  about  them  more. 
Calmly  she  heard  each  calumny  that  rose, 

And  saw  his  agonies  with  such  sublimity, 

That  all  the  world  exclaimed,  '  What  magnanimity  ! ' 


This  is  the  longest  and  most  elaborate  version  of  his  own 
story  that  Byron  ever  published ;  but  he  busied  himself  with 
many  others,  projecting  at  one  time  a  Spanish  romance,  in 
which  the  same  story  is  related  in  the  same  transparent  man 
ner  :  but  this  he  was  dissuaded  from  printing.  The  book-sell 
ers,  however,  made  a  good  speculation  in  publishing  what  they 
called  his  domestic  poems  ;  that  is,  poems  bearing  more  or 
less  relation  to  this  subject. 

Every  person  with  whom  he  became  acquainted  with  any 
degree  of  intimacy  was  made  familiar  with  his  side  of  the  story. 
Moore's  Biography  is  from  first  to  last,  in  its  representations, 
founded  upon  Byron's  communicativeness,  and  Lady  Byron's 
silence  ;  and  the  world  at  last  settled  down  to  believing  that  the 
account  so  often  repeated,  and  never  contradicted,  must  be  sub 
stantially  a  true  one. 

The  true  history  of  Lord  and  Lady  Byron  has  long  been  per 
fectly  understood  in  many  circles  in  England  ;  but  the  facts  were 
of  a  nature  that  could  not  be  made  public.  While  there  was  a 
young  daughter  living  whose  future  might  be  prejudiced  by  its 


424  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 

recital,  and  while  there  were  other  persons  on  whom*  the  dis 
closure  of  the  real  truth  would  have  been  crushing  as  an  ava 
lanche,  Lady  Byron's  only  course  was  the  perfect  silence  in 
which  she  took  refuge,  and  those  sublime  works  of  charity  and 
mercy  to  which  she  consecrated  her  blighted  earthly  life. 

But  the  time  is  now  come  when  the  truth  may  be  told.  All 
the  actors  in  the  scene  have  disappeared  from  the  stage  of  mortal 
existence,  and  passed,  let  us  have  faith  to  hope,  into  a  world 
where  they  would  desire  to  expiate  their  faults  by  a  late  publica 
tion  of  the  truth. 

No  person  in  England,  we  think,  would  as  yet  take  the 
responsibility  of  relating  the  true  history  which  is  to  clear  Lady 
Byron's  memory  ;  but,  by  a  singular  concurrence  of  circum 
stances,  all  the  facts  of  the  case,  in  the  most  undeniable  and 
authentic  form,  were  at  one  time  placed  in  the  hands  of  the 
writer  of  this  sketch,  with  authority  to  make  such  use  of  them 
as  she  should  judge  best.  Had  this  melancholy  history  been 
allowed  to  sleep,  no  public  use  would  have  been  made  of  them  ; 
but  the  appearance  of  a  popular  attack  on  the  character  of  Lady 
Byron  calls  for  a  vindication,  and  the  true  story  of  her  married 
life  will  therefore  now  be  related. 

Lord  Byron  has  described  in  one  of  his  letters  the  impres 
sion  left  upon  his  mind  by  a  young  person  whom'  he  met  one 
evening  in  society,  and  who  attracted  his  attention  by  the  sim 
plicity  of  her  dress,  and  a  certain  air  of  singular  purity  and 
calmness  with  which  she  surveyed  the  scene  around  her. 

On  inquiry,  he  was  told  that  this  young  person  was  Miss 
Milbanke,  an  only  child,  and  one  of  the  largest  heiresses  in 
England. 

Lord  Byron  was  fond  of  idealizing  his  experiences  in  poetry ; 
and  the  friends  of  Lady  Byron  had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing 
the  portrait  of  Lady  Byron,  as  she  appeared  at  this  time  of  her 
life,  in  his  exquisite  description  of  Aurora  Raby  :  — 

"  There  was 
Indeed  a  certain  fair  and  fairy  one, 

Of  the  best  class,  and  better  than  her  class,  — 
Aurora  Raby,  a  young  star  who  shone 

O'er  life,  too  sweet  an  image  for  such  glass  ; 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  425 


A  lovely  being  scarcely  formed  or  moulded  ; 
A  rose  with  all  its  sweetest  leaves  yet  folded. 


Early  in  years,  and  yet  more  infantine 
In  figure,  she  had  something  of  sublime 

In  eyes  which  sadly  shone  as  seraphs'  shine  ; 
All  youth,  but  with  an  aspect  beyond  time  ; 

Radiant  and  grave,  as  pitying  man's  decline  ; 
Mournful,  but  mournful  of  another's  crime, 

She  looked  as  if  she  sat  by  Eden's  door, 

And  grieved  for  those  who  could  return  no  more. 


She  gazed  upon  a  world  she  scarcely  knew, 

As  seeking  not  to  know  it ;  silent,  lone, 
As  grows  a  flower,  thus  quietly  she  grew, 

And  kept  her  heart  serene  within  its  zone. 
There  was  awe  in  the  homage  which  she  drew  ; 

Her  spirit  seemed  as  seated  on  a  throne, 
Apart  from  the  surrounding  world,  and  strong 
In  its  own  strength,  —  most  strange  in  one  so  young  !  " 

Some  idea  of  the  course  which  their  acquaintance  took,  and 
of  the  manner  in  which  he  was  piqued  into  thinking  of  her,  is 
given  in  a  stanza-or  two  :  — 

"  The  dashing  and  proud  air  of  Adeline 

Imposed  not  upon  her  :  she  saw  her  blaze 
Much  as  she  would  have  seen  a  glow-worm  shine  ; 

Then  turned  unto  the  stars  for  loftier  rays. 
Juan  was  something  she  could  not  divine, 

Being  no  sibyl  in  the  new  world's  ways ; 
Yet  she  was  nothing  dazzled  by  the  meteor, 
Because  she  did  not  pin  her  faith  on  feature. 

His  fame  too  (for  he  had  that  kind  of  fame 
Which  sometimes  plays  the  deuse  with  womankind,  — 

A  heterogeneous  mass  of  glorious  blame, 

Half  virtues  and  whole  vices  being  combined  ; 

Faults  which  attract  because  they  are  not  tame  ; 
Follies  tricked  out  so  brightly  that  they  blind),  — 

These  seals  upon  her  vrax  made  no  impression, 

Such  was  her  coldness  or  her  self-possession. 


426  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 


Aurora  sat  with  that  indifference 

Which  piques  a  preux  chevalier,  —  as  it  ought. 
Of  all  offences,  that's  the  worst  offence 

Which  seems  to  hint  you  are  not  worth  a  thought. 

To  his  gay  nothings,  nothing  was  replied, 
Or  something  which  was  nothing,  as  urbanity 

Required.     Aurora  scarcely  looked  aside, 
Nor  even  smiled  enough  for  any  vanity. 

The  Devil  was  in  the  girl !     Could  it  be  pride, 
Or  modesty,  or  absence,  or  inanity  ? 

Juan  was  drawn  thus  into  some  attentions, 
Slight  but  select,  and  just  enough  to  express, 

To  females  of  perspicuous  comprehensions, 

That  he  would  rather  make  them  more  than  less. 

Aurora  at  the  last  (so  history  mentions, 
Though  probably  much  less  a  fact  than  guess) 

So  far  relaxed  her  thoughts  from  their  sweet  prison 

As  once  or  twice  to  smile,  if  not  to  listen. 

But  Juan  had  a  sort  of  winning  way, 

A  proud  humility,  if  such  there  be, 
Which  showed  such  deference  to  what  females  say, 

As  if  each  charming  word  were  a  decree. 
His  tact,  too,  tempered  him  from  grave  to  gay, 

And  taught  him  when  to  be  reserved  or  free. 
He  had  the  art  of  drawing  people  out, 
Without  their  seeing  what  he  was  about. 

Aurora,  who,  in  her  indifference, 
Confounded  him  in  common  with  the  crowd 

Of  flatterers,  though  she  deemed  he  had  more  sense 
Than  whispering  foplings  or  than  witlings  loud, 

Commenced  (from  such  slight  things  will  great  commence) 
To  feel  that  flattery  which  attracts  the  proud, 

Rather  by  deference  than  compliment, 

And  wins  even  by  a  delicate  dissent. 

And  then  he  had  good  looks  ;  that  point  was  carried 
Nem.  con.  amongst  the  women. 

Now,  though  we  know  of  old  that  looks  deceive, 
And  always  have  done,  somehow  these  good  looks 
Make  more  impression  than  the  best  of  books. 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  427 


Aurora,  who  looked  more  on  books  than  faces, 

Was  very  young,  although  so  very  sage  ; 
Admiring  more  Minerva  than  the  Graces, 

Especially  upon  a  printed  page. 
But  Virtue's  self,  with  all  her  tightest  laces, 

Has  not  the  natural  stays  of  strict  old  age  ; 
And  Socrates,  that  model  of  all  duty, 
Owned  to  a  penchant,  though  discreet,  for  beauty." 

The  presence  of  this  high-minded,  thoughtful,  unworldly 
woman  is  described  through  two  cantos  of  the  wild,  rattling 
"  Don  Juan,"  in  a  manner  that  shows  how  deeply  the  poet  was 
capable  of  being  affected  by  such  an  appeal  to  his  higher  nature. 

For  instance,  when  Don  Juan  sits  silent  and  thoughtful  amid 
a  circle  of  persons  who  are  talking  scandal,  the  poet  says,  — 

"  'Tis  true,  he  saw  Aurora  look  as  though 

She  approved  his  silence  :  she  perhaps  mistook 
Its  motive  for  that  charity  we  owe, 
But  seldom  pay,  the  absent. 


He  gained  esteem  where  it  was  worth  the  most ; 

And  certainly  Aurora  had  renewed 
In  him  some  feelings  he  had  lately  lost 

Or  hardened,  —  feelings  which,  perhaps  ideal, 
Are  so  divine  that  I  must  deem  them  real :  — 

The  love  of  higher  things  and  better  days ; 

The  unbounded  hope  and  heavenly  ignorance 
Of  what  is  called  the  world  and  the  world's  ways  ; 

The  moments  when  we  gather  from  a  glance 
More  joy  than  from  all  future  pride  or  praise, 

Which  kindled  manhood,  but  can  ne'er  entrance 
The  heart  in  an  existence  of  its  own 
Of  which  another's  bosom  is  the  zone. 

And,  full  of  sentiments  sublime  as  billows 
„  Heaving  between  this  world  and  worlds  beyond, 

Don  Juan,  when  the  midnight  hour  of  pillows 
Arrived,  retired  to  his."  .  .  . 

In  all  these  descriptions  of  a  spiritual,  unworldly  nature 
acting  on  the  spiritual  and  unworldly  part  of  his  own  nature, 


428  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 


every  one  who  ever  knew  Lady  Byron  intimately  must  have 
recognized  the  model  from  which  he  drew,  and  the  experience 
from  which  he  spoke,  even  though  nothing  was  further  from  his 
mind  than  to  pay  this  tribute  to  the  woman  he  had  injured,  and 
though  before  these  lines,  which  showed  how  truly  he  knew  her 
real  character,  had  come  one  stanza  of  ribald,  vulgar  caricature, 
designed  as  a  slight  to  her  :  — 

"  There  was  Miss  Millpond,  smooth  as  summer's  sea, 

That  usual  paragon,  an  only  daughter, 
Who  seemed  the  cream  of  equanimity 

'Till  skimmed  ;  and  then  there  was  some  milk  and  water  ; 
With  a  slight  shade  of  blue,  too,  it  might  be, 

Beneath  the  surface  :  but  what  did  it  matter? 
Love's  riotous  ;  but  marriage  should  have  quiet, 
And,  being  consumptive,  live  on  a  milk  diet." 

The  result  of  Byron's  intimacy  with  Miss  Milbanke  and  the 
enkindling  of  his  nobler  feelings  was  an  offer  of  marriage,  which 
she,  though  at  the  time  deeply  interested  in  him,  declined  with 
many  expressions  of  friendship  and  interest.  In  fact,  she 
already  loved  him,  but  had  that  doubt  of  her  power  to  be  to 
him  all  that  a  wife  should  be  which  would  be  likely  to  arise  in 
a  mind  so  sensitively  constituted  and  so  unworldly.  They,  how 
ever,  continued  a  correspondence  as  friends  :  on  her  part,  the 
interest  continually  increased  ;  on  his,  the  transient  rise  of  bet 
ter  feelings  was  choked  and  overgrown  by  the  thorns  of  base, 
unworthy  passions. 

From  the  height  at  which  he  might  have  been  happy  as  the 
husband  of  a  noble  woman,  he  fell  into  the  depths  of  a  secret 
adultercfus  intrigue  with  a  blood  relation,  so  near  in  consanguin 
ity,  that  discovery  must  have  been  utter  ruin,  and  expulsion  from 
civilized  society. 

From  henceforth,  this  damning  guilty  secret  became  the  rul 
ing  force'  in  his  life  ;  holding  him  with  a  morbid  fascination,  yet 
filling  him  with  remorse  and  anguish,  and  insane  dread  of  detec 
tion.  Two  years  after  his  refusal  by  Miss  Milbanke,  his  various 
friends,  seeing  that  for  some  cause  he  was  wretched,  pressed 
marriage  upon  him. 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  429. 

Marriage  has  often  been  represented  as  the  proper  goal  and 
terminus  of  a  wild  and  dissipated  career ;  and  it  has  been  sup 
posed  to  be  the  appointed  mission  of  good  women  to  receive 
wandering  prodigals,  with  all  the  rags  and  disgraces  of  their  old 
life  upon  them,  and  put  rings  on  their  hands,  and  shoes  on  their 
feet,  and  introduce  them,  clothed  and  in  their  right  minds,  to  an 
honorable  career  in  society. 

Marriage  was,  therefore,  universally  recommended  to  Lord 
Byron  by  his  numerous  friends  and  well-wishers  ;  and  so  he 
determined  to  marry,  and,  in  an  hour  of  reckless  desperation, 
sat  down  and  wrote  proposals  to  two  ladies.  One  was  declined  : 
the  other,  which  was  accepted,  was  to  Miss  Milbanke.  The 
world  knows  well  that  he  had  the  gift  of  expression,  and  will 
not  be  surprised  that  he  wrote  a  very  beautiful  letter,  and  that 
the  woman  who  had  already  learned  to  love  him  fell  at  once 
into  the  snare. 

Her  answer  was  a  frank,  outspoken  avowal  of  her  love  for 
him,  giving  herself  to  him  heart  and  hand.  The  good  in  Lord 
Byron  was  not  so  utterly  obliterated  that  he  could  receive  such 
a  letter  without  emotion,  or  practise  such  unfairness  on  a  loving, 
trusting  heart  without  pangs  of  remorse.  He  had  sent  the 
letter  in  mere  recklessness  ;  he  had  not  seriously  expected  to 
be  accepted  ;  and  the  discovery  of  the  treasure  of  affection  which 
he  had  secured  was  like  a  vision  of  lost  heaven  to  a  soul  in  hell. 

But,  nevertheless,  in  his  letters  written  about  the  engage 
ment,  there  are  sufficient  evidences  that  his  self-love  was  flat 
tered  at  the  preference  accorded  him  by  so  superior  a  woman, 
and  one  who  had  been  so  much  sought.  He  mentions  with  an 
air  of  complacency  that  she  has  employed  the  last  two  years  in 
refusing  five  or  six  of  his  acquaintance  ;  that  he  had  no  idea 
she  loved  him,  admitting  that  it  was  an  old  attachment  on  his 
part.  He  dwells  on  her  virtues  with  a  sort  of  pride  of  owner 
ship.  There  is  a  sort  of  childish  levity  about  the  frankness 
of  these  letters,  very  characteristic  of  the  man  who  skimmed 
over  the  deepest  abysses  vwith  the  lightest  jests.  Before  the 
world,  and  to  his  intimates,  he  was  acting  the  part  of  the  suc 
cessful  fiance,  conscious  all  the  while  of  the  deadly  secret  that 
lay  cold  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart. 


43O  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 

When  he  went  to  visit  Miss  Milbanke's  parents  as  her  ac 
cepted  lover,  she  was  struck  with  his  manner  and  appearance  : 
she  saw  him  moody  and  gloomy,  evidently  wrestling  with  dark 
and  desperate  thoughts,  aad  any  thing  but  what  a  happy  and 
accepted  lover  should  be.  She  sought  an  interview  with  him 
alone,  and  told  him  that  she  had  observed  that  he  was  not 
happy  in  the  engagement ;  and  magnanimously  added,  that  if,  on 
review,  he  found  he  had  been  mistaken  in  the  nature  of  his 
feelings,  she  would  immediately  release  him,  and  they  should 
remain  only  friends. 

Overcome  with  the  conflict  of  his  feelings,  Lord  Byron 
fainted  away.  Miss  Milbanke  was  convinced  that  his  heart 
must  really  be  deeply  involved  in  an  attachment  with  reference 
to  which  he  showed  such  strength  of  emotion,  and  she  spoke 
no  more  of  a  dissolution  of  the  engagement. 

There  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that  Byron  was,  as  he  relates  in 
his  "  Dream,"  profoundly  agonized  and  agitated  when  he  stood 
before  God's  altar  with  the  trusting  young  creature  whom  he 
was  leading  to  a  fate  so  awfully  tragic  ;  yet  it  was  not  the  mem 
ory  of  Mary  Chaworth,  but  another  guiltier  and  more  damning 
memory,  that  overshadowed  that  hour. 

The  moment  the  carriage-doors  were  shut  upon  the  bride 
groom  and  the  bride,  the  paroxysm  of  remorse  and  despair  — 
unrepentant  remorse  and  angry  despair  —  broke  forth  upon  her 
gentle  head  :  — 

"  You  might  have  saved  me  from  this,  madam  !  You  had  all 
in  your  own  power  when  I  offered  myself  to  you  first.  Then 
you  might  have  made  me  what  you  pleased  ;  but  now  you  will 
find  that  you  have  married  a  devil !  " 

In  Miss  Martineau's  Sketches,  recently  published,  is  an 
account  of  the  termination  of  this  wedding -journey,  which 
brought  them  to  one  of  Lady  Byron's  ancestral  country-seats, 
where  they  were  to  spend  the  honeymoon. 

Miss  Martineau  says,  — 

"  At  the  altar  she  did  not  know  that  she  was  a  sacrifice  ;  but 
before  sunset  of  that  winter  day  she  knew  it,  if  a  judgment  may 
be  formed  from  her  face,  and  attitude  of  -despair,  when  she 
alighted  from  the  carriage  on  the  afternoon  of  her  marriage- 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  431 

day.  It  was  not  the  traces  of  tears  which  won  the  sympathy 
of  the  old  butler  who  stood  at  the  open  door.  The  bride 
groom  jumped  out  of  the  carriage,  and  walked  away.  The 
bride  alighted,  and  came  up  the  steps  alone,  with  a  countenance 
and  frame  agonized  and  listless  with  evident  horror  and  despair. 
The  old  servant  longed  to  offer  his  arm  to  the  young,  lonely 
creature,  as  an  assurance  of  sympathy  and  protection.  From 
this  shock  she  certainly  rallied,  and  soon.  The  pecuniary  diffi 
culties  of  her  new  home  were  exactly  what  a  devoted  spirit  like 
hers  was  fitted  to  encounter.  Her  husband  bore  testimony, 
after  the  catastrophe,  that  a  brighter  being,  a  more  sympathiz 
ing  and  agreeable  companion,  never  blessed  any  man's  home. 
When  he  afterward  called  her  cold  and  mathematical,  and  over- 
pious,  and  so  forth,  it  was  when  public  opinion  had  gone 
against  him,  and  when  he  had  discovered  that  her  fidelity  and 
mercy,  her  silence  and  magnanimity,  might  be  relied  on,  so  that 
he  was  at  full  liberty  to  make  his  part  good,  as  far  as  she  was 
concerned. 

"  Silent  she  was  even  to  her  own  parents,  whose  feelings  she 
magnanimously  spared.  She  did  not  act  rashly  in  leaving  him, 
though  she  had  been  most  rash  in  marrying  him." 

Not  all  at  once  did  the  full  knowledge  of  the  dreadful 
reality  into  which  she  had  entered  come  upon  the  young  wife. 
She  knew  faguely,  from  the  wild  avowals  of  the  first  hours  of 
their  marriage,  that  there  was  a  dreadful  secret  of  guilt ;  that 
Byron's  soul  was  torn  with  agonies  of  remorse,  and  that  he  had 
no  love  to  give  to  her  in  return  for  a  love  which  was  ready  to 
do  and  dare  all  for  him.  Yet  bravely  she  addressed  herself  to 
the  task  of  soothing  and  pleasing  and  calming  the  man  whom 
she  had  taken  "  for  better  or  for  worse." 

Young  and  gifted ;  with  a  peculiar  air  of  refined  and  spiritual 
beauty  ;  graceful  in  every  movement ;  possessed  of  exquisite 
taste ;  a  perfect  companion  to  his  mind  in  all  the  higher  walks 
of  literary  culture ;  and  with  that  infinite  pliability  to  all  his 
varying,  capricious  moods  which  true  love  alone  can  give  ; 
bearing  in  her  hand  a  princely  fortune,  which,  with  a  woman's 
uncalculating  generosity,  was  thrown  at  his  feet,  —  there  is  no 
wonder  that  she  might  feel  for  a  while  as  if  she  could  enter 


432  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 

the  lists  with  the  very  Devil  himself,  and  fight  with  a  woman's 
weapons  for  the  heart  of  her  husband. 

There  are  indications  scattered  through  the  letters  of  Lord 
Byron,  which,  though  brief  indeed, 'showed  that  his  young  wife 
was  making  every  effort  to  accommodate  herself  to  him,  and  to 
give  him  a  cheerful  home.  One  of  the  poems  that  he  sends  to 
his  publisher  about  this  time,  he  speaks  of  as  being  copied  by 
her.  He  had  always  the  highest  regard  for  her  literary  judg 
ments  and  opinions  ;  and  this  little  incident  shows  that  she  was 
already  associating  herself  in  a  wifely  fashion  with  his  aims  as 
an  author. 

The  poem  copied  by  her,  however,  has  a  sad  meaning,  which 
she  afterwards  learned  to  understand  only  too  well :  — 

"  There's  not  a  joy  the  world  can  give  like  that  it  takes  away 
When  the  glow  of  early  thought  declines  in  feeling's  dull  decay  : 
'Tis  not  on  youth's  smooth  cheek  the  blush  alone  that  fades  so  fast ; 
But  the  tender  bloom  of  heart  is  gone  e'er  youth  itself  be  past. 

Then  the  few  whose  spirits  float  above  the  wreck  of  happiness 
Are  driven  o'er  the  shoals  of  guilt,  or  ocean  of  excess  : 
The  magnet  of  their  course  is  gone,  or  only  points  in  vain 
The  shore  to  which-their  shivered  sail  shall  never  stretch  again." 

Only  a  few  days  before  she  left  him  forever,  LorB  Byron  sent 
Murray  manuscripts,  in  Lady  Byron's  handwriting,  of  the 
"  Siege  of  Corinth,"  and  '  Parisina,"  and  wrote,  — 

"  I  am  very  glad  that  the  handwriting  was  a  favorable  omen 
of  the  morale  of  the  piece  :  but  you  must  not  trust  to  that ;  for 
my  copyist  would  write  out  any  thing  I  desired,  in  all  the  igno 
rance  of  innocence." 

There  were  lucid  intervals  in  which  Lord  Byron  felt  the 
charm  of  his  wife's  mind,  and  the  strength  of  her  powers. 
"  Bell,  you  could  be  a  poet  too,  if  you  only  thought  so,"  he 
would  say.  There  were  summer-hours  in  her  stormy  life,  the 
memory  of  which  never  left  her,  when  Byron  was  as  gentle  and 
tender  as  he  was  beautiful ;  when  he  seemed  to  be  possessed 
by  a  good  angel :  and  then  for  a  little  time  all  the  ideal  possibil 
ities  of  his  nature  stood  revealed. 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  433 

The  most  dreadful  men  to  live  with  are  those  who  thus 
alternate  between  angel  and  devil.  The  buds  of  hope  and  love 
called  out  by  a  day  or-  two  of  sunshine  are  frozen  again  and 
again,  till  the  tree  is  killed. 

But  there  came  an  hour  of  revelation,  —  an  hour  when,  in  a 
manner  which  left  no  kind  of  room  for  doubt,  Lady  Byron  saw 
the  full  depth  of  the  abyss  of  infamy  which  her  marriage  was 
expected  to  cover,  and  understood  that  she  was  expected  to 
be  the  cloak  and  the  accomplice  of  this  infamy. 

Many  women  would  have  been  utterly  crushed  by  such  a 
disclosure  ;  some  would  have  fled  from  him  immediately,  and 
exposed  and  denounced  the  crime.  Lady  Byron  did  neither. 
When  all  the  hope  of  womanhood,  died  out  of  her  heart,  there 
arose  within  her,  stronger,  purer,  and  brighter,  that  immortal 
kind  of  love  such  as  God  feels  for  the  sinner,  —  the  love  of 
which  Jesus  spoke,  and  which  holds  the  one  wanderer  of  more 
account  than  the  ninety  and  nine  that  went  not  astray.  She 
would  neither  leave  her  husband  nor  betray  him,  nor  yet  would 
she  for  one  moment  justify  his  sin  ;  and  hence  came  two 
years  of  convulsive  struggle,  in  which  sometimes,  for  a  while, 
the  good  angel  seemed  to  gain  ground,  and  then  the  evil  one 
returned  with  sevenfold  vehemence, 

Lord  Byron  argued  his  case  with  himself  and  with  her 
with  all  the  sophistries  of  his  powerful  mind.  He  repudiated 
Christianity  as  authority ;  asserted  the  right  of  every  human 
being  to  follow  out  what  he  called  "  the  impulses  of  nature." 
Subsequently  he  introduced  into  one  of  his  dramas  the  reason 
ing  by  which  he  justified  himself  in  incest. 

In  the  drama  of  "  Cain,"  Adah,  the  sister  and  the  wife  of 
Cain,  thus  addresses  him  :  — 

"  Cain,  walk  not  with  this  spirit. 
Bear  with  what  we  have  borne,  and  love  me  :  I 
Love  thee. 

Lucifer.     More  than  thy  mother  and  thy  sire  ? 

Adah.     I  do.     Is  that  a  sin  too? 

Lucifer.  No,  not  yet  : 

It  one  day  will  be  in  your  children. 

Adah.  What! 

Must  not  my  daughter  love  her  brother  Enoch? 
28 


434  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 


Lucifer.     Not  as  thou  lovest  Cain. 

Adah.  O  my  God  I 

Shall  they  not  love,  and  bring  forth  things  that  love 
Out  of  their  loVe  ?     Have  they  not  drawn  their  milk 
Out  of  this  bosom  ?     Was  not  he,  their  father, 
Born  of  the  same  sole  womb,  in  the  same  hour 
With  me  ?     Did  we  not  love  each  other,  and, 
In  multiplying  our  being,  multiply 
Things  which  will  love  each  other  as  we  love 
Them  ?    And  as  I  love  thee,  my  Cain,  go  not 
Forth  with  this  spirit :   he  is  not  of  ours. 

Lucifer.     The  sin  I  speak  of  is  not  of  my  making  ; 
And  cannot  be  a  sin  in  you,  whate'er 
It  seems  in  those  who  will  replace  ye  in 
Mortality. 

Adah.     What  is  the  sin  which  is  not 
Sin  in  itself?    Can  circumstance  make  sin 
Of  virtue  ?    If  it  doth,  we  are  the  slaves 
Of"  — 

Lady  Byron,  though  slight  and  almost  infantine  in  her 
bodily  presence,  had  the  soul,  not  only  of  an  angelic  woman, 
but  of  a  strong,  reasoning  man.  It  was  the  writer's  lot  to 
know  her  at  a  period  when  she  formed  the  personal  acquaint 
ance  of  many  of  the  very  first  minds  of  England ;  but,  among 
all  with  whom  this  experience  brought  her  in  connection,  there 
was  none  who  impressed  her  so  strongly  as  Lady  Byron. 
There  was  an  almost  supernatural  power  of  moral  divination, 
a  grasp  of  the  very  highest  and  most  comprehensive  things, 
that  made  her  lightest  opinions  singularly  impressive.  No  doubt, 
this  result  was  wrought  out  in  a  great  degree  from  the  anguish 
and  conflict  of  these  two  years,  when,  with  no  one  to  help  or 
counsel  her  but  Almighty  God,  she  wrestled  and  struggled 
with  fiends  of  darkness  for  the  redemption  of  her  husband's 
soul. 

She  followed  him  through  all  his  sophistical  reasonings  with 
a  keener  reason.  She  besought  and  implored,  in  the  name  of 
his  better  nature,  and  by  all  the  glorious  things  that  he  was 
capable  of  being  and  doing  ;  and  she  had  just  power  enough 
to  convulse  and  shake  and  agonize,  but  not  power  enough  to 
subdue. 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  435 

One  of  the  first  of  living  writers,  in  the  novel  of  "  Romola," 
has  given,  in  her  masterly  sketch  of  the  character  of  Tito,  the 
whole  history  of  the  conflict  of  a  woman  like  Lady  Byron  with 
a  nature  like  that  of  her  husband.  She  has  described  a  being 
full  of  fascinations  and  sweetnesses,  full  of  generosities  and  of 
good-natured  impulses  ;  a  nature  that  could  not  bear  to  give 
pain,  or  to  see  it  in  others,  but  entirely  destitute  of  any  firm 
moral  principle  :  she  shows  how  such  a  being,  merely  by 
yielding  step  by  step  to  the  impulses  of  passjon,  and  disregard 
ing  the  claims  of  truth  and  right,  becomes  involved  in  a  fatality 
of  evil,  in  which  deceit,  crime,  and  cruelty  are  a  necessity, 
forcing  him  to  persist  in  the  basest  ingratitude  to  the  father  who 
has  done  all  for  him,  and  hard-hearted  treachery  to  the  high- 
minded  wife  who  has  given  herself  to  him  wholly. 

There  are  few  scenes  in  literature  more  fearfully  tragic  than 
the  one  between  Romola  and  Tito,  when  he  finally  discovers 
that  she  knows  him  fully,  and  can  be  deceived  by  him  no  more. 
Some  such  hour  always  must  come  for  strong,  decided  natures 
irrevocably  pledged,  —  one  to  the  service  of  good,  and  the  other 
to  the  slavery  of  evil.  The  demoniac  cried  out,  "  What  have 
I  to  do  with  thee,  Jesus  of  Nazareth  ?  Art  thou  come  to  tor 
ment  me  before  the  time  ?  "  The  presence  of  all-pitying  purity 
and  love  was  a  torture  to  the  soul  possessed  by  the  demon  of 
evil. 

These  two  years  in  which  Lady  Byron  was  with  all  her  soul 
struggling  to  bring  her  husband  back  to  his  better  self  were  a 
series  of  passionate  convulsions. 

During  this  time,  such  was  the  disordered  and  desperate 
state  of  his  worldly  affairs,  that  there  were  ten  executions  for 
debt  levied  on  their  family  establishment ;  and  it  was  Lady 
Byron's  fortune  each  time  which  settled  the  account. 

Toward  the  last,  she  and  her  husband  saw  less  and  less  of 
each  other  ;  and  he  came  more  and  more  decidedly  under  evil 
influences,  and  seemed  to  acquire  a  sort  of  hatred  of  her. 

Lady  Byron  once  said  significantly  to  a  friend  who  spoke 
of  some*  causeless  dislike  in  another,  "  My  dear,  I  have  known 
people  to  be -hated  for  no  other  reason  than  because  they  im 
personated  conscience." 


436  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 

The  biographers  of  Lord  Byron,  and  all  his  apologists,  are 
careful  to  narrate  how  sweet  and  amiable  and  obliging  he  was 
to  everybody  who  approached  him  ;  and  the  saying  of  Fletcher, 
his  man-servant,  that  "  anybody  could  do  any  thing  with  my 
Lord,  except  my  Lady,"  has  often  been  quoted. 

The  reason  of  all  this  will  now  be  evident.  "  My  Lady " 
was  the  only  one,  fully  understanding  the  deep  and  dreadful 
secrets  of  his  life,  who  had  the  courage  resolutely  and  persist 
ently  and  inflexibly  to  plant  herself  in  his  way,  and  insist  upon 
it,  that,  if  he  went  to  destruction,  it  should  be  in  spite  of  her 
best  efforts. 

He  had  tried  his  strength  with  her  fully.  The  first  attempt 
had  been  to  make  her  an  accomplice  by  sophistry  ;  by  destroy 
ing  her  fait'h  in  Christianity,  and  confusing  her  sense  of  right 
and  wrong,  to  bring  her  into  the  ranks  of  those  convenient 
women  who  regard  the  marriage-tie  only  as  a  friendly  alliance 
to  cover  license  on  both  sides. 

When  her  husband  described  to  her  the  Continental  latitude 
(the  good-humored  marriage,  in  which  complaisant  couples 
mutually  agreed  to  form  the  cloak  for  each  other's  infidelities), 
and  gave  her  to  understand  that  in  this  way  alone  she  could 
have  a  peaceful  and  friendly  life  with  him,  she  answered  him 
simply,  "  I  am  too  truly  your  friend  to  do  this." 

When  Lord  Byron  found  that  he  had  to  do  with  one  who 
would  not  yield,  who  knew  him  fully,  who  could  not  be  blinded 
and  could  not  be  deceived,  he  determined  to  rid  himself  of  her 
altogether. 

It  was  when  the  state  of  affairs  between  herself  and  her 
husband  seemed  darkest  and  most  hopeless,  that  the  only  child 
of  this  union  was  born.  Lord  Byron's  treatment  of  his  wife 
during  the  sensitive  period  that  preceded  the  birth  of  this  child, 
and  during  her  confinement,  was  marked  by  paroxysms  of  un 
manly  brutality,  for  which  the  only  possible  charity  on  her  part 
was  the  supposition  of  insanity.  Moore  sheds  a  significant 
light  on  this  period,  by  telling  us,  that,  about  this  time,  Byron 
was  often  drunk,  day  after  day,  with  Sheridan.  There  had  been 
insanity  in  the  family  ;  and  this  was  the  plea  which  Lady  Byron's 
love  put  in  for  him.  She  regarded  him  as,  if  not  insane,  at 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 


437 


least  so  nearly  approaching  the  boundaries  of  insanity  as  to  be  a 
subject  of  forbearance  and  tender  pity  ;  and  ~she  loved  him  with 
that  love  resembling  a  mother's,  which  good  wives  often  feel 
when  thev  have  lost  all  faith  in  their  husbands'  principles,  and 
all  hopes  of  their  affections.  Still,  she  was  in  heart  and  soul 
his  best  friend ;  true  to  him  with  a  truth  which  he  himself  could 
not  shake. 

In  the  verses  addressed  to  his  daughter,  Lord  Byron  speaks 
of  her  as 

"  The  child  of  iove,  though  born  in  bitterness, 
And  nurtured  in  convulsion." 

A  day  or  two  after  the  birth  of  this  child,  Lord  Byron  came 
suddenly  into  Lady  Byron's  room,  and  told  her  that  her  mother 
was  dead.  It  was  an  utter  falsehood ;  but  it  was  only  one  of 
the  many  nameless  injuries  and  cruelties  by  which  he  expressed 
his  hatred  of  her.  A  short  time  after  her  confinement,  she  was 
informed  by  him,  in  a  note,  that,  as  soon  as  she  was  able  to 
travel,  she  must  go  ;  that  he  could  not  and  would  not  longer 
have  her  about  him ;  and,  when  her  child  was  only  five  weeks 
old,  he  carried  this  threat  of  expulsion  into  effect. 

Here  we  will  insert  briefly  Lady  Byron's  own  account  (the 
only  one  she  ever  gave  to  the  public)  of  this  separation.  The 
circumstances  under  which  this  brief  story  was  written  are 
affecting. 

Lord  Byron  was  dead.  The  whole  account  between  him 
and  her  was  closed  forever  in  this  world.  Moore's  Life  had 
been  prepared,  containing  simply  and  solely  Lord  Byron's 
own  version  of  their  story.  Moore  sent  this  version  to  Lady 
Byron,  and  requested  to  know  if  she  had  any  remarks  to  make 
upon  it.  In  reply,  she  sent  a  brief  statement  to  him,  — the  first 
and  only  one  that  had  come  from  her  during  all.  the  years  of 
the  separation,  and  which  appears  to  have  mainly  for  its 
object  the  exculpation  of  her  father  and  mother  from  the  charge, 
made  by  the  poet,  of  being  the  instigators  of  the  separation. 

In  this  letter,  she  says,  with  regard  to  their  separation,  — 

"  The  facts  are,  I  left  London  for  Kirkby  Mallory,  the  resi 
dence  of  my  father  and  mother,  on  the  I5th  of  January,  1816. 


438  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 

LORD  BYRON  HAD  SIGNIFIED  TO  ME  IN  WRITING,  JAN.  6, 
HIS  ABSOLUTE  DESIRE  THAT  I  SHOULD  LEAVE  LONDON  ON 

THE  EARLIEST   DAY   THAT  I  COULD  CONVENIENTLY   FIX. 

It  was  not  safe  for  me  to  undertake  the  fatigue  of  a  journey 
sooner  than  the  I5th.  Previously  to  my  departure,  it  had  been 
strongly  impressed  upon  my  mind  that  Lord  Byron  was  under 
the  influence  of  insanity.  This  opinion  was  derived,  in  a  great 
measure,  from  the  communications  made  me  by  his  nearest  rela 
tives  and  personal  attendant,  who  had  more  opportunity  than 
myself  for  observing  him  during  the  latter  part  of  my  stay  in 
town.  It  was  even  represented  to  me  that  he  was  in  danger  of 
destroying  himself. 

"  With  the  concurrence  '  of  his  family,  I  had  consulted  Dr. 
Baillie  as  a  friend  (Jan.  8)  respecting  the  supposed  malady. 
On  acquainting  him  with  the  state  of  the  case,  and  with  Lord 
Byron's  desire  that  I  should  leave  London,  Dr.  Baillie  thought 
that  my  absence  might  be  advisable  as  an  experiment,  assuming 
the  fact  of  mental  derangement ;  for  Dr.  Baillie,  not  having 
had  access  to  Lord  Byron,  could  not  pronounce  a  positive 
opinion  on  that  point.  He  enjoined,  that,  in  correspondence 
with  Lord  Byron,  I  should  avoid  all  but  light  and  soothing 
topics.  Under  these  impressions,  I  left  London,  determined  to 
follow  the  advice  given  by  Dr.  Baillie.  Whatever  might  have 
been  the  conduct  of  Lord  Byron  toward  me  from  the  time  of  my 
marriage,  yet,  supposing  him  to  be  hi  a  state  of  mental  aliena 
tion,  it  was  not  for  me,  nor  for  any  person  of  common  humanity, 
to  manifest  at  that  moment  a  sense  of  injury." 

Nothing  more  than  this  letter  from  Lady  Byron  is  necessary 
to  substantiate  the  fact,  that  she  did  not  leave  her  husband,  but 
was  driven  from  him,  —  driven  from  him  that  he  might  give 
himself  up  to  the  guilty  infatuation  that  was  consuming  him, 
without  being  tortured  by  her  imploring  face,  and  by  the  silent 
power  of  her  presence  and  her  prayers. 

For  a  long  time  before  this,  she  had  seen  little  of  him.  On 
the  day  of  her  departure,. she  passed  by  the  door  of  his  room, 
and  stopped  to  caress  his  favorite  spaniel,  which  was  lying 
there ;  and  she  confessed  to  a  friend  the  weakness  of  feeling  a 
willingness  even  to  be  something  as  humble  as  that  poor  little 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  439 

creature,  might  she  only  be  allowed  to  remain  and  watch  over 
him.  She  went  into  the  room  where  he  and  the  partner  of  his 
sins  were  sitting  together,  and  said,  "  Byron,  I  come  to  say  good- 
by  ;  "  offering,  at  the  same  time,  her  hand. 

Lord  Byron  put  his  hands  behind  him,  retreated  to  the 
mantle-piece,  and,  looking  round  on  the  two  that  stood  there, 
with  a  sarcastic  smile  said,  "  When  shall  we  three  meet  again  ?  " 
Lady  Byron  answered,  '*  In  heaven,  I  trust."  And  those  were 
her  last  words  to  him  on  earth. 

Now,  if  the  reader  wishes  to  understand  the  real  talents  of 
Lord  Byron  for  deception  and  dissimulation,  let  him  read,  with 
this  story  in  his  mind,  the  "  Fare  thee  well,"  which  he  addressed 
to  Lady  Byron  through  the  printer  :  — 

"  Fare  thee  well  ;  and  if  forever, 

Still  forever  fare  thee  well ! 
Even  though  unforgiving,  never 
'Gainst  thee  shall  my  heart  rebel. 

Would  that  breast  were  bared  before  thee 

Where  thy  head  so  oft  hath  lain, 
While  that  placid  sleep  came  o'er  thee 

Thou  canst  never  know  again  ! 

Though  my  many  faults  defaced  me, 

Could  no  other  arm  be  found 

*  Than  the  one  which  once  embraced  me 

To  inflict  a  careless  wound  ?  " 

The  re-action  of  society  against  him  at  the  time  of  the  sepa 
ration  from  his  wife  was  something  which  he  had  not  expected, 
and  for  which,  it  appears,  he  was  entirely  unprepared.  It  broke 
up  the  guilty  intrigue,  and  ,drove  him  from  England.  He  had 
not  courage  to  meet  or  endure  it.  The  world,  to  be  sure,  was 
very  far  from  suspecting  what  the  truth  was  :  but  the  tide  was 
setting  against  him  with  such  vehemence  as  to  make  him  trem 
ble  every  hour  lest  the  whole  should  be  known  ;  and  henceforth 
it  became  a  warfare  of  desperation  to  make  his  story  good,  no 
matter  at  whose  expense. 

He  had  tact  enough  to  perceive  at  first  that  the  assumption 
of  the  pathetic  and  the  magnanimous,  and  general  confessions 
of  faults,  accompanied  with  admissions  of  his  wife's  goodness, 


440  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 

would  be  the  best  policy  in  his  case.  In  this  mood,  he  thus 
writes  to  Moore  :  — 

"The  fault  was  not  in  my  choice  (unless  in  choosing  at  all)  ; 
for  I  do  not  believe  (and  I  must  say  it  in  the  very  dregs  of  all 
this  bitter  business)  that  there  ever  was  a  better,  or  'even  a 
brighter,  a  kinder,  or  a  more  amiable,  agreeable  being  than 
Lady  Byron.  I  never  had,  nor  can  have,  any  reproach  to  make 
her  while  with  me.  Where  there  is  blame,  it  belongs  to  myself." 

As  there  must  be  somewhere  a  scapegoat  to  bear  the  sin  of 
the  affair,  Lord  Byron  wrote  a  poem  called  "  A  Sketch,"  in 
which  he  lays  the  blame  of  stirring  up  strife  on  a  friend  and 
former  governess  of  Lady  Byron's  ;  but  in  this  sketch  he  intro 
duces  the  following  just  eulogy  on  Lady  Byron  :  — 

"  Foiled  was  perversion  by  that  youthful  mind 
Which  flattery  fooled  not,  baseness  could  not  blind, 
Deceit  infect  not,  near  contagion  soil, 
Indulgence  weaken,  nor  example  spoil, 
Nor  mastered  science  tempt  her  to  look  down 
On  humbler  talents  with  a  pitying  frown, 
Nor  genius  swell,  nor  beauty  render  vain, 
Nor  envy  ruffle  to  retaliate  pain, 
Nor  fortune  change,  pride  raise,  nor  passion  bow, 
Nor  virtue  teach  austerity,  —  till  now  ; 
Serenely  purest  of  her  sex  that  live, 
But  wanting  one  sweet  weakness,  — to  forgive  ; 
Too  shocked  at  faults  her  soul  can  never  know, 
She  deemed  that  all  could  be  like  her  below  : 
Foe  to  all  vice,  yet  hardly  Virtue's  friend  ; 
For  Virtue  pardons  those  she  would  amend." 

In  leaving  England,  Lord  Byron  'first  went  to  Switzerland, 
where  he  conceived  and  in  part  wrote  out  the  tragedy  of  "  Man 
fred."  Moore  speaks  of  his  domestic  misfortunes,  and  the 
sufferings  which  he  underwent  at  this  time,  as  having  an  influ 
ence  in  stimulating  his  genius,  so  that  he  was  enabled  to  write 
with  a  greater  power. 

Anybody  who  reads  the  tragedy  of  "  Manfred  "  with  this 
story  in  his  mind  will  see  that  it  is  true. 

The  hero  is  represented  as  a  gloomy  misanthrope,  dwelling 
with  impenitent  remorse  on  the  memory  of  an  incestuous  pas- 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 


441 


sion  which  has  been  the  destruction  of  his  sister  for  this  life  and 
the  life  to  come,  but  which,  to  the  very  last  gasp,  he  despair 
ingly  refuses  to  repent  of,  even  while  he  sees  the  fiends  of  dark 
ness  rising  to  take  possession  of  his  departing  soul.  That 
Byron  knew  his  own  guilt  well,  and  judged  himself  severely, 
may  be  gathered  from  passages  in  this  poem,  which  are  as 
powerful  as  human  language  can  be  made  ;  for  instance,  this 
part  of  the  "  incantation,"  which  Moore  says  was  written  at 
this  time  :  — 

"  Though  thy  slumber  may  be  deep, 

Yet  thy  spirit  shall  not  sleep  : 

There  are  shades  which  will  not  vanish  ; 

There  are  thoughts  thou  canst  not  banish. 

By  a  power  to  thee  unknown, 

Thou  canst  never  be  alone  : 

Thou  art  wrapt  as  with  a  shroud  ; 

Thou  art  gathered  in  a  cloud  ; 

And  forever  shalt  thou  dwell 

In  the  spirit  of  this  spell. 

From  thy  false  tears  I  did  distil 
An  essence  which  had  strength  to  kill  ; 
From  thy  own  heart  I  then  did  wring 
The  black  blood  in  its  blackest  spring  ; 
From  thy  own  smile  I  snatched  the  snake, 
For  there  it  coiled  as  in  a  brake  ; 
From  thy  own  lips  I  drew  the  charm 
Which  gave  all  these  their  chiefest  harm  : 
In  proving  every  poison  known, 

I  found  the  strongest  was  thine  own. 

By  thy  cold  breast  and  serpent  smile, 

By  thy  unfathomed  gulfs  of  guile, 

By  that  most  seeming  virtuous  eye, 

By  thy  shut  soul's  hypocrisy, 

By  the  perfection  of  thine  art 

Which  passed  for  human  thine  own  heart, 

By  thy  delight  in  others'  pain, 

And  by  thy  brotherhood  of  Cain, 

I  call  upon  thee,  and  compel 

Thyself  to  be  thy  proper  hell  1 " 

Again  :  he  represents  Manfred  as  saying  to  the  old  abbot, 
who  seeks  to  bring  him  to  repentance,  — 


442  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 


"  Old  man,  there  is  no  power  in  holy  men, 
Nor  charm  in  prayer,  nor  purifying  form 
Of  penitence,  nor  outward  look,  nor  fast, 
Nor  agony,  nor,  greater  than  all  these, 
The  innate  tortures  of  that  deep  despair, 
Which  is  remorse  without  the  fear  of  hell, 
But,  all  in  all  sufficient  to  itself, 
Would  make  a  hell  of  heaven,  can  exorcise 
From  out  the  unbounded  spirit  the  quick  sense 
Of  its  own  sins,  wrongs,  sufferance,  and  revenge 
Upon  itself:  there  is  no  future  pang 
Can  deal  that  justice  on  the  self-condemned 
He  deals  on  his  own  soul." 

And  when  the  abbot  tells  him, 

"  All  this  is  well ; 

For  this  will  pass  away,  and  be  succeeded 
By  an  auspicious  hope,  which  shall  look  up 
With  calm  assurance  to  that  blessed  place 
Which  all  who  seek  may  win,  whatever  be 
Their  earthly  errors," 

He  answers, 


Then  the  old  abbot  soliloquizes  :  — 

"  This  should  have  been  a  noble  creature  :  he 
Hath  all  the  energy  which  would  have  made 
A  goodly  frame  of  glorious  elements, 
Had  they  been  wisely  mingled  ;  as  it  is, 
It  is  an  awful  chaos,  — light  and  darkness, 
And  mind  and  dust,  and  passions  and  pure  thoughts, 
Mixed,  and  contending  without  end  or  order." 

The  world  can  easily  see,  in  Moore's  Biography,  what,  after 
this,  was  the  course  of  Lord  Byron's  life  ;  how  he  went  from 
shame  to  shame,  and  dishonor  to  dishonor,  and  used  the  fortune 
which  his  wife  brought  him  in  the  manner  described  in  those 
private  letters  which  his  biographer  was  left  to  print.  Moore, 
indeed,  says  Byron  had  made  the  resolution  not  to  touch  his 
lady's  fortune;  but  adds,  that  it  re'quired  more  self-command 
than  he  possessed  to  carry  out  so  honorable  a  purpose. 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  443 

Lady  Byron  made  but  one  condition  with  him.  She  had  him 
in  her  power  ;  and  she  exacted  that  the  unhappy  partner  of  his 
sins  should  not  follow  him  out  of  England,  and^that  the  ruinous 
intrigue  should  be  given  up.  Her  inflexibility  on  this  point 
kept  up  that  enmity  which  was  constantly  expressing  itself  in 
some  publication  or  other,  and  which  drew  her  and  her  private 
relations  with  him  before  the  public. 

The  story  of  what  Lady  Byron  did  with  the  portion  of  her 
fortune  .which  was  reserved  to  her  is  a  record  of  noble  and 
skilfully  administered  charities.  Pitiful  and  wise  and  strong, 
there  was  no  form  of  human  suffering  or  sorrow  that  did  not 
find  with  her  refuge  and  help.  She  gave  not  only  systemati 
cally,  but  also  impulsively.- 

Miss  Martineau  claims  for  her  the  honor  of  having  first 
invented  practical  schools,  in  which  the  children  of  the  poor 
were  turned  into  agriculturists,  artisans,  seamstresses,  and  good 
wives  for  poor  men.  While  she  managed  with  admirable  skill 
and  economy  permanent  institutions  of  this  sort,  she  was  always 
ready  to  relieve  suffering  in  any  form.  The  fugitive  slaves 
William  and  Ellen  Crafts,  escaping  to  England,  were  fostered 
by  her  protecting  care. 

In  many  cases  where  there  was  distress  or  anxiety  from 
poverty  among  those  too  self-respecting  to  make  their  sufferings 
known,  the  delicate  hand  of  Lady  Byron  ministered  to  the 
want  with  a  consideration  which  spared  the  most  refined  feel 
ings. 

As  a  mother,  her  course  was  embarrassed  by  peculiar  trials. 
The  daughter  inherited  from  the  father  not  only  brilliant  talents, 
but  a  restlessness  and  morbid  sensibility  which  might  be  too 
surely  traced  to  the  storms  and  agitations  of  the  period  in  which 
she  was  born.  It  was  necessary  to  bring  her  up  in  ignorance 
of  the  true  history  of  her  mother's  life  ;  and  the  consequence 
was,  that  she  could  not  fully  understand  that  mother. 

During  her  early  girlhood,  her  career  was  a  source  of  more 
anxiety  than  of  comfort.  She  married  a  man  of  fashion,  ran  a 
brilliant  course  as  a  gay  woman  of  fashion,  and  died  early  of  a 
lingering  and  painful  disease. 

In  the  silence  and  shaded  retirement  of  the  sick-room,  the 


444      MISCELLANEOUS  DOCUMENTS. 

daughter  came  wholly  back  to  her  mother's  arms  and  heart ; 
and  it  was  on  that  mother's  bosom  that  she  leaned  as  she  went 
down  into  the  dark  valley.  It  was  that  mother  who  placed  her 
weak  and  dying  hand  ih  that  of  her  Almighty  Saviour. 

To  the  children  left  by  her  daughter,  she  ministered  with  the 
faithfulness  of  a  guardian  angel  ;  and  it  is  owing  to  her  influ 
ence  that  those  who  yet  remain  are  among  the  best  and  noblest 
of  mankind. 

The  person  whose  relations  with  Byron  had  been  so  disas 
trous,  also,  in  the  latter  years  of  her  life,  felt  Lady  Byron's 
loving  and  ennobling  influences,  and,  in  her  last  sickness  and 
dying  hours,  looked  to  her  for  consolation  and  help. 

There  was  an  unfortunate  child  of  sin,  born  with  the  curse 
upon  her,  over  whose  wayward  nature  Lady  Byron  watched 
with  a  mother's  tenderness.  She  was  the  one  who  could  have 
patience  when  the  patience  of  every  one  else  failed  ;  and  though 
her  task  was  a  difficult  one,  from  the  strange,  abnormal  propen 
sities  to  evil  in  the  object  of  her  cares,  yet  Lady  Byron  never 
faltered,  and  never  gave  over,  till  death  took  the  responsibility 
from  her  hands. 

During  all  this  trial,  strange  to  say,  her  belief  that  the  good 
in  Lord  Byron  would  finally  conquer  was  unshaken. 

To  a  friend  who  said  to  her,  "  Oh  !  how  could  you  love 
him  ?  "  she  answered  briefly,  "  My  dear,  there  was  the  angel  in 
him."  It  is  in  us  all. 

It  was  in  this  angel  that  she  had  faith.  It  was  for  the  deliv 
erance  of  this  angel  from  degradation  and  shame  and  sin  that 
she  unceasingly  prayed.  She  read  every  work  that  Byron 
wrote,  — read  it  with  a  deeper  knowledge  than  any  human  being 
but  herself  could  possess.  The  ribaldry  and  the  obscenity  and 
the  insults  with  which  he  strove  to  make  her  ridiculous  in  the 
world  fell  at  her  pitying  feet  unheeded. 

When  he  broke  away  from  all  this  unworthy  life  to  devote 
himself  to  a  manly  enterprise  for  the  redemption  of  Greece,  she 
thought  that  she  saw  the  beginning  of  an  answer  to  her  prayers. 
Even  although  one  of  his  latest  acts  concerning  her  was  to 
repeat  to  Lady  Blessington  the  false  accusation  which  made 
Lady  Byron,  the  author  of  all  his  errors,  she  still  had  hopes 
from  the  one  step  taken  in  the  right  direction. 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  445 

« 

In  the  midst  of  these  hopes  came  the  news  of  his  sudden 
death.  On  his  death-bed,  it  is  well  known  that  he  called  his 
confidential  English  servant  to  him,  and  said  to  him,  "  Go  to 
my  sister;  tell  her —  Go  to  Lady  Byron,  —  you  will  see  her, — 
and  say  "  — 

Here  followed  twenty  minutes  of  indistinct  mutterings,  in 
which  the  names  of  his  wife,  daughter,  and  sister,  frequently 
occurred.  He  then  said,  "  Now  I  have  told  you  all." 

"  My  lord,"  replied  Fletcher,  "  I  have  not  understood  a  word 
your  lordship  has  been  saying." 

"  Not  understand  me  !  "  exclaimed  Lord  Byron  with  a  look 
of  the  utmost  distress  :  "  what  a  pity  !  Then  it  is  j;oo  late,  —  all 
is  over  !  "  He  afterwards,  says  Moore,  tried  to  utter  a  few 
words,  of  which  none  were  intelligible  except  "  My  sister  —  my 
child." 

When  Fletcher  returned  to  London,  Lady  Byron  sent  for 
him,  and  walked  the  room  in  convulsive  struggles  to  repress 
her  tears  and  sobs,  while  she  over  and  over  again  strove  to 
elicit  something  from  him  which  should  enlighten  her  upon 
what  that  last  message  had  been  ;  but  in  vain  :  the  gates  of 
eternity  were  shut  in  her  face,  and  not- a  word  had  passed  to  tell 
her  if  he  had  repented. 

For  all  that,  Lady  Byron  never  doubted  his  salvation.  Ever 
before  her,  during  the  few  remaining  years  of  her  widowhood, 
was  the  image  of  her  husband,  purified  and  ennobled,  with  the 
shadows  of  earth  forever  dissipated,  the  stains  of  sin  forever 
removed  ;  "  the  angel  in  him,"  as  she  expressed  it,  "  made  per 
fect,  according  to  its  divine  ideal." 

Never  has  more  divine  strength  of  faith  and  love  existed  in 
woman.  Out  of  the  depths  of  her  own  loving  and  merciful 
nature,  she  gained  such  views  of  the  divine  love  and  mercy  as 
made  all  hopes  possible.  There  was  no  soul  of  whose  future 
Lady  Byron  despaired,  —  such  was  her  boundless  faith  in  the 
redeeming  power  of  love. 

After  Byron's  death,  the  life  of  this  delicate  creature  —  so 
frail  in  body  that  she  seemed  always  hovering  on  the  brink  of 
the  eternal  world,  yet  so  strong  in  spirit,  and  so  unceasing  in 
her  various  ministries  of  mercy  —  was  a  miracle  of  mingled 
weakness  and  strength. 


446  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 


To  talk  with  her  seemed  to  the  writer  of  this  sketch  the 
nearest  possible  approach  to  talking  with  one  of  the  spirits  of 
the  just  made  perfect. 

She  was  gentle,  artless  ;  approachable  as  a  little  child ;  with 
ready,  outflowing  sympathy  for  the  cares  and  sorrows  and 
interests  of  all  who  approached  her  ;  with  a  naive  and  gentle 
playfulness,  that  adorned,  without  hiding,  the  breadth  and 
strength  of  her  mind  ;  and,  above  all,  with  a  clear,  divining, 
moral  discrimination ;  never  mistaking  wrong  for  right  in  the 
slightest  shade,  yet  with  a  mercifulness  that  made  allowance 
for  every  weakness,  and  pitied  every  sin. 

There  was^so  much  of  Christ  in  her,  that  to  have  seen  her 
seemed  to  be  to  have  drawrt  near  to  heaven.  She  was  one  of 
those  few  whom  absence  cannot  estrange  from  friends  ;  whose 
mere  presence  in  this  world  seems  always  a  help  to  every  gener 
ous  thought,  a  strength  to  every  good  purpose,  a  comfort  in 
every  sorrow. 

Living  so  near  the  confines  of  the  spiritual  world,  she 
seemed  already  to  see  into  it  :  hence  the  words  of  comfort 
which  she  addressed  to  a  friend  who  had  lost  a  son  :  — 

"  Dear  friend,  remember,  as  long  as  our  loved  ones  are  in 
God's  world,  they  are  in  ours" 


It  has  been  thought  by  some  friends  who  have  read  the 
proof-sheets  of  the  foregoing  that  the  author  should  state  more 
specifically  her  authority  for  these  statements. 

The  circumstances  which  led  the  writer  to  England  at  a 
certain  time  originated  a  friendship  and  correspondence  with 
Lady  Byron,  which  was  always  regarded  as  one  of  the  greatest 
acquisitions  of  that  visit. 

On  the  occasion  of  a  second  visit  to  England,  in  1856,  the 
writer  received  a  note  from  Lady  Byron,  indicating  that  she 
wished  to  have  some  private,  confidential  conversation  upon 
important  subjects,  and  inviting  her,  for  that  purpose,  to  spend 
a  day  with  her  at  her  country-seat  near  London. 

The  writer  went  and  spent  a  day  with  Lady  Byron  alone  ; 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  447 

and  the  object  of  the  invitation  was  explained  to  her.  Lady 
Byron  was  in  such  a  state  of  health,  that  her  physicians  had 
warned  her  that  she  had  very  little  time  to  live.  She  was 
engaged  in  those  duties  and  retrospections  which  every 
thoughtful  person"  finds  necessary,  when  coming  deliberately, 
and  with  open  eyes,  to  the  boundaries  of  this  mortal  life* 

At  that  time,  there  was  a  cheap  edition  of  Byron's  works  in 
contemplation,  intended  to  bring  his  writings  into  circulation 
among  the  masses  ;  and  the  pathos  arising  from  the  story  of  his 
domestic  misfortunes  was  one  great  means  relied  on  for  giving 
it  currency. 

Under  these  circumstances,  some  of  Lady  Byron's  friends 
had  proposed  the  question  to  her,  whether  she  had  not  a  respon 
sibility  to  society  for  the  truth ;  whether  she  did  right  to  allow 
thgse  writings  to  gain  influence  over  the  popular  mind  by  giving 
a  silent  consent  to  what  she  knew  to  be  utter  falsehoods. 

Lady  Byron's  whole,  life  had  been  passed  in  the  most  heroic 
self-abnegation  and  self-sacrifice  :  and  she  had  now  to  consider 
whether  one  more  act  of  self-denial  was  not  required  of  her 
before  leaving  this  world;  namely,  to  declare  the  absolute 
truth,  no  matter  at  what  expense  to  her  own  feelings. 

For  this  reason,  it  was  her  desire  to  recount  the  whole 
history  to  a  person  of  another  country,  and  entirely  out  of  the 
sphere  of  personal  and  local  feelings  which  might  be  supposed 
to  influence  those  in  the  country  and  station  in  life  where  the 
events  really  happened,  in  order  that  she  might  be  helped  by 
such  a  person's  views  in  making  up  an  opinion  as  to  her  own 
duty. 

The  interview  had  almost  the  solemnity  of  a  death-bed 
avowal.  Lady  Byron  stated  the  facts  which  have  been  em 
bodied  in  this  article,  and  gave  to  the  writer  a  paper  containing 
a  brief  memorandum  of  the  whole,  with  the  dates  affixed. 

We  have  already  spoken  of  that  singular  sense  of  the  reality 
of  the  spiritual  world  which  seemed  to  encompass  Lady  Byron 
during  the  last  part  of  her  life,  and  which  made  her  words  and 
actions  seem  more  like  those  of  a  blessed  being  detached  from 
earth  than  of  an  ordinary  mortal.  All  her  modes  of  looking 
at  things,  all  her  motives  of  action,  all  her  involuntary  exhi- 


44$  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 


bitions  of  emotion,  were  so  high  above  any  common  level, 
and  so  entirely  regulated  by  the  most  unworldly  causes,  that  it 
would  seem  difficult  to  make  the  ordinary  world  understand 
exactly  how  the  thing  seemed  to  lie  before  her  mind.  Wnat 
impressed  the  writer  more  strongly  than  any  thing  else  was 
Lady  Byron's  perfect  conviction athat  her  husband  was  now  a 
redeemed  spirit ;  that  he  looked  back  with  pain  and  shame 
and  regret  on  all  that  was  unworthy  in .  his  past  life  ;  and  that, 
if  he  could  speak  or  could  act  in  the  case,  he  would  desire  to 
prevent  the  further  circulation  of  base  falsehoods,  and  of 
seductive  poetry,  which  had  been  made  the  vehicle  of  morbid 
and  unworthy  passions. 

Lady  Byron's  experience*had  led  her  to  apply  the  powers  of 
her  strong  philosophical  mind  to  the  study  of  mental  pathology  : 
and  she  had  become  satisfied  that  the  solution  of  the  painfinl 
problem  which  first  occurred  to  her  as  a  young  wife,  was,  after 
all,  the  true  one  ;  namely,  that  Lord  Byfon  had  been  one  of 
those  unfortunately  constituted  persons  in  whom  the  balance 
of  nature  is  so  critically  hung,  that  it  is  always  in  danger  of 
dipping  towards  insanity ;  and  that,  in  certain  periods  of  his 
life,  he  was  so  far  under  the  influence  of  mental  disorder  as  not 
to  be  fully  responsible  for  his  actions. 

She  went  over  with  a  brief  and  clear  analysis  the  history  of 
his  whole  life  as  she  had  thought  it  out  during  the  lonely 
musings  of  her  widowhood.  She  dwelt  on  the  ancestral  causes 
that  gave  him  a  nature  of  exceptional  and  dangerous  suscepti 
bility.  She  went  through  the  mismanagements  of  his  child 
hood,  the  history  of  his  school-days,  the  influence  of  the 
ordinary  school-course  of  classical  reading  on  such  a  mind  as 
his.  She  sketched  boldly  and  clearly  the  internal  life  of  the 
young  men  of  the  time,  as  she,  with  her  purer  eyes,  had  looked 
through  it ;  and  showed  how  habits,  which,  with  less  susceptible 
fibre  and  coarser  strength  of  nature,  were  tolerable  for  his  com 
panions,  were  deadly  to  him,  unhinging  his  nervous  system,  and 
intensifying  the  dangers  of  ancestral  proclivities.  Lady  Byron 
expressed  the  feeling  too,  that  the  Calvinistic  theology,  as 
heard  in  Scotland,  had  proved  in  his  case,  as  it  often  does  in 
certain  minds,  a  subtle  poison.  He  never  could  either  dis- 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  449 

believe  or  become  reconciled  to  it  ;  and  the  sore  problems  it 
proposes  imbittered  his  spirit  against  Christianity. 

" The  worst  of  it  is,  I  do  believe"  he  would  often  say  with 
violence,  when  he  had  been  employing  all  his  powers  of  reason, 
wit,  and  ridicule  upon  these  subjects. 

Through  all  this  sorrowful  history  was  to  be  seen,  not  the 
care  of  a  slandered  woman  to  make  her  story  good,  but  the 
pathetic  anxiety  of  a  mother,  who  treasures  every  particle  of 
hope,  every  intimation  of  good,  in  the  son  whom  she  cannot 
cease  to  love.  With  indescribable  resignation,  she  dwelt  on 
those  last  hours,  those  words  addressed  to  her,  never  to  be 
understood  till  repeated  in  eternity. 

But  all  this  she  looked  upon  as  fSrever  past ;  believing,  that, 
with  the  dropping  of  the  earthly  life,  these  morbid  impulses 
aad  influences  ceased,  and  that  higher  nature  which  he  often 
so  beautifully  expressed  in  his  poems  became  the  triumphant 
one. 

While  speaking  on  this  subject,  her  pale,  ethereal  face 
became  luminous  with  a  heavenly  radiance  :  there  was  some 
thing  so  sublime  in  her  belief  in  the  victory  of  love  over  evil, 
that  faith  with  her  seemed  to  have  become  sight.  She  seemed 
so  clearly  to  perceive  the  divine  ideal  of  the  man  she  had  loved, 
and  for  whose  salvation  she  had  been  called  to  suffer  and 
labor  and  pray,  that  all  memories  of  his  past  unworthiness  fell 
away,  and  were  lost. 

Her  love  was  never  the  doting  fondness  of  weak  women  ;  it 
was  the  appreciative  and  discriminating  love  by  which  a  higher 
nature  recognized  godlike  capabilities  under  all  the  dust  and 
defilement  of  misuse  and  passion  :  and  she  never  doubted  that 
the  love  which  in  her  was  so  strong,  that  no  injury  or  insult 
could  shake  it,  was  yet  stronger  in  the  God  who  made  her 
capable  of  such  a  devotion,  and  that  in  him  it  was  accompanied 
by  power  to  subdue  all  things  to  itself. 

The  writer  was  so  impressed  and  excited  by  the  whole  scene 
and  recital,  that  she  begged  for  two  or  three  days  to  deliberate 
before  forming  any  opinion.  She  took  the  memorandum  with 
her,  returned  to  London,  and  gave  a  day  or  two  to  the  con 
sideration  of  the  subject.  The  decision  which  she  made  was 


45O  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 

chiefly  influenced  by  her  reverence  and  affection  for  Lady 
Byron.  She  seemed  so  frail,  she  had  suffered  so  much,  she 
stood  at  such  a  height  above  the  comprehension  of  the  coarse 
and  common  world,  that  the  author  had  a  feeling  that  it  would 
almost  be  like  violating  a  shrine  to  ask  her  to  come  forth  from 
the  sanctuary  of  a  silence  where  she  had  so  long  abode,  and 
plead  her  cause.  She  wrote  to  Lady  Byron,  that  while  this  act 
of  justice  did  seem  to  be  called  for,  and  to  be  in  some  respects 
most  desirable,  yet,  as  it  would  involve  so  much  that  was 
painful  to  her,  the  writer  considered  that  Lady  Byron  would  be 
entirely  justifiable  in  leaving  the  truth  to  be  disclosed  after  her 
death ;  and  recommended  that  all  the  facts  necessary  should  be 
put  in  the  hands  of  some  person,  to  be  so  published. 

Years  passed  on.  Lady  Byron  lingered  four  years  after 
this  interview,  to  the  wonder  of  her  physicians  and  all  her 
friends. 

After  Lady  Byron's  death,  the  writer  looked  anxiously, 
hoping  to  see  a  Memoir  of  the  person  whom  she  considered  the 
most  remarkable  woman  that  England  has  produced  in  the 
century.  No  such  Memoir  has  appeared  on  the  part  of  her 
friends  ;  and  the  mistress  of  Lord  Byron  has  the  ear  of  the 
public,  and  is  sowing  far  and  wide  unworthy  slanders,  which 
are  eagerly  gathered  up  and  read  by  an  undiscriminating  com 
munity. 

There  may  be  family  reasons  in  England  which  prevent 
Lady  Byron's  friends  from  speaking.  But  Lady  Byron  has  an 
American  name  and  an  American  existence  ;  and  reverence  for 
pure  womanhood  is,  we  think,  a  national  characteristic  of  the 
American ;  and,  so  far  as  this  country  is  concerned,  we  feel  that 
the  public  should  have  this  refutation  of  the  slanders  of  the 
Countess  Guiccioli's  book. 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  45  I 


LORD   LINDSAY'S   LETTER   TO   "THE  LONDON 
TIMES." 

TO   THE   EDITOR   OF   "  THE   TIMES." 

SIR,  —  I  have  waited  in  expectation  of  a  categorical  denial 
of  the  horrible  charge  brought  by  Mrs.  Beecher  Stowe  against 
Lord  Byron  and  his  sister  on  the  alleged  authority  of  the  la^s 
Lady  Byron.  Such  denial  has  been  only  indirectly  given  by  the 
letter  of  Messrs.  Wharton  and  Fords  in  your  impression  of 
yesterday.  That  letter  is  sufficient  to  prove  that  Lady  Byron 
never  contemplated  the  use  made  of  her  name,  and  that  her 
descendants  and  representatives  disclaim  any  countenance  of 
Mrs.  B.  Stowe's  article  ;  but  it  does  not  specifically  meet  Mrs. 
Stowe's  allegation,  that  Lady  Byron,  in  conversing  with  her 
thirteen  years  ago,  affirmed  the  charge  now  before  -us.  It  re 
mains  open,  therefore,  to  a  scandal-loving  world,  to  credit  the 
calumny  through  the  advantage  of  this  flaw,  involuntary,  I 
believe,  in  the  answer  produced  against  it.  My  object  in 
addressing  you  is  to  supply  that  deficiency  by  proving  that 
what  is  now  stated  on  Lady  Byron's  supposed  authority  is  at 
variance,  in  all  respects,  with  what  she  stated  immediately  after 
the  separation,  when  every  thing  was  fresh  in  her  memory  in 
relation  to  the  time  'during  which,  according  to  Mrs.  B.  Stowe, 
she  believed  that  Byron  and  his  sister  were  living  together  in 
guilt.  I  publish  this  evidence* with  reluctance,  but  in  obedience 
to  that  higher  obligation  of  justice  to  the  voiceless  and  defence 
less  dead  which  bids  me  break  through  a  reserve  that  other 
wise  I  should  have  held  sacred.  The  Lady  Byron  of  1818 
would,  I  am  certain,  have  sanctioned  my  doing  so,  had  she  fore 
seen  the  present  unparalleled  occasion,  and  the  bar  that  the 
conditions  of  her  will  present  (as  I  infer  from  Messrs.  Wharton 
and  Fords'  letter)  against  any  fuller  communication.  Calumnies 
such  as  the  present  sink  deep  and  with^sapidity  into  the  public 
mind,  and  are  not  easily  eradicated.  The  fame  of  one  of  our 
greatest  poets,  and  that  of  the  kindest  and  truest  and  most 
constant  friend  that  Byron  ever  had,  is  at  stake  ;  and  it 'will 
not  do  to  wait  for  revelations  from  the  fountain-head,  which  are 
not  promised,  and  possibly  may  never  reach  us. 


452  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 

The  late  Lady  Anne  Barnard,  who  died  in  1825,  a  contem 
porary  and  friend  of  Burke,  Windham,  Dundas,  and  a  host  of 
the  wise  and  good  of  that  generation,  and  remembered  in 
letters  as  the  authoress  of  "  Auld  Robin  Gray,"  had  known  the 
late  Lady  Byron  from  infancy,  and  took  a  warm  interest  in  her ; 
holding  Lord  Byron  in  corresponding  repugnance,  not  to  say 
jirejudice,  in  consequence  of  what  she  believed  to  be  his  harsh 
and  cruel  treatment  of  her  young  friend.  I  transcribe  the  fol 
lowing  passages,  and  a  letter  from  Lady  Byron  herself  (written 
in  1818)  from  ricordi,  or  private  family  memoirs,  in  Lady 
Anne's  autograph,  now  before  me.  I  include  the  letter,  because, 
although  treating  only  in  general  terms  of  the  matter  and 
causes  of  the  separation,  it  affords  collateral  evidence  bearing 
strictly  upon  the  point  of  the  credibility  of  the  charge  now  in 
question  :  — 

"  The  separation  of  Lord  and  Lady  Byron  astonished  the 
world,  which  believed  him  a  reformed  man  as  to  his  habits,  and 
a  becalmed  man  as  to  his  remorses.  He  had  written  nothing 
that  appeared  after  his  marriage  till  the  famous  '  Fare  thee  well,' 
which  had  the  power  of  compelling  those  to  pity  the  writer 
who  were  not  well  aware  that  he.  was  not  the  unhappy  person 
he  affected  to  be.  Lady  Byron's  misery  was  whispered  soon 
after  her  marriage  and  his  ill  usage  ;  but  no  word  transpired, 
no  sign  escaped,  from  her.  She  gave  birth,  shortly,  to  a 
daughter ;  and  when  she  went,  as  soon  as  she  was  recovered, 
on  a  visit  to  her  father's,  taking  her  little  Ada  with  her,  no  one 
knew  that  it  was  to  return  to  her  lord  no  more.  At  that  period, 
a  severe  fit  of  illness  had  confined  me  to  bed  for  two  months. 
I  heard  of  Lady  Byron's  distress  ;  of  the  pains  he  took  to  give 
a  harsh  impression  of  her  character  to  the  world.  I  wrote  to 
her,  and  entreated  her  to  come  and  let  me  see  and  hear  her,  if 
she  conceived  my  symnfithy  or  counsel  could  be  any  comfort  to 
her.  She  came  ;  but  what  a  tale  was  unfolded  by  this  interest 
ing  young  creature,  who  had  so  fondly  hoped  to  have  made  a 
young  man  of  genius  and  romance  (as  she  supposed)  happy  ! 
They  had  not  beeft  an  hour  in  the  carriage  which  conveyed 
them  from  the  church,  when,  breaking  into  a  malignant  sneer, 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  453 

'  Oh  !  what  a  dupe  you  have  been  to  your  imagination  !  How 
is  it  possible  a  woman  of  your  sense  could  form  the  wild  hope 
of  reforming  me  ?  Many  are  the  tears  you  will  have  to  shed 
ere  that  plan  is  accomplished.  It  is  enough  for  me  that  you 
are  my  wife  for  me  to  hate  you.  If  you  were  the  wife  of  any 
other  man,  I  own  you  might  have  charms,'  &c.  I  who  listened 
was  astonished.  '  How  could  you  go  on  after  this,'  said  I,  '  rfly 
dear  ?  Why  did  you  not  return  to  your  father's  ? '  —  '  Because  I 
had  not  a  conception  he  was  in  earnest  ;  because  I  reckoned  it 
a  bad  jest,  and  told  him  so, — that  my.  opinions  of  him  were 
very  different  from  his  of  himself,  otherwise  he  would  not  find 
me  by  his  side.  He  laughed  it  over  when  he  saw  me  appear 
hurt ;  and  I  forgot  what  had  passed,  till  forced  to  remember  it. 
I  believe  he  was  pleased  with  me,  too,  for  a  little  while.  I  sup 
pose  it  had  escaped  his  memory  that  I  was  his  wife.'  But  she 
described  the  happiness  they  enjoyed  to  have  been  unequal  and 
perturbed.  Her  situation,  in-  a  short  time,  might  have  entitled 
her  to  some  tenderness ;  but  she  made  no  claim  on  him  for 
any.  He  sometimes  reproached  her  for  the  motives  that  had 
induced  her  to  marry  him  :  all  was  '  vanity,  the  vanity  of  Miss 
Milbanke  carrying  the  point  of  reforming  Lord  Byron  !  He 
always  knew  her  inducements  ;  her  pride  shut  her  eyes  to  his : 
he  wished  to  build  up  his  character  and  his  fortunes  ;  both  were 
somewhat  deranged  :  she  had  a  high  name,  and  would  have  a 
fortune  worth  his  attention, — let  her  look  to 'that  for  his 
motives!'  —  'O  Byron,  Byron!'  she  said,  '  how  you  desolate 
me!'  He  would  then  accuse  himself  of  being  mad, 'and 
throw  himself  on  the  ground  in  a  frenzy,  which  she  believed 
was  affected  to  conceal  the  coldness  and  malignity  of  his  heart, 
—  an  affectation  which  at  that  time  never  failed  to  meet  with 
the  tenderest  commiseration.  I  could  find  by  some  impli- 
catio'ns,  not  followed  up  by  me,  lest  she  might  have  condemned 
herself  afterwards  for  her  involuntary  disclosures,  that  he  soon 
attempted  to  corrupt  her  principles,  both  with  respect  to  her 
own  conduct  and  her  latitude  for  his.  She  saw  the  precipice 
on  which  she  stood,  and  kept  his  sister  with  her  as  much  as 
possible.  He  returned  in  the  evenings  from  the  haunts  of  vice, 
where  he  made  her  understand  he  had  been,  with  manners  so 


454  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 

profligate  !  '  O  the  wretch  ! '  said  I.  '  And  had  he  no  moments 
of  remorse  ? '  —  '  Sometimes  he  appeared  to  have  them.  One 
night,  coming  home  from  one  of  his  lawless  parties,  he  saw  me 
so  indignantly  collected,  and  bearing  all  with  such  a  determined 
calmness,  that  a  rush  of  remorse  seemed  to  come  over  him. 
He  called  himself  a  monster,  though  his  sister  was  present,  and 
threw  himself  in  agony  at  my  feet.  "I  could  not  —  no  —  I 
could  not  forgive  him  such  injuries.  He  had  lost  me  forever  !  " 
Astonished  at  the  return  of  virtue,  my  tears,  I  believe,  flowed 
over  his  face,  and  I  said,  "  Byron,  all  is  forgotten  :  never, 
never,  shall  you  hear  of  it  more  !  "  He  started  up,  and,  folding 
his  arms  while  he  looked  at  me,  burst  into  laughter.  "  What 
do  you  mean  ? "  said  I.  "  Only  a  philosophical  experiment ; 
that's  all,"  said  he.  "  I  wished  to  ascertain  the  value  of  your 
resolutions."  '  I  need  not  say  more  of  this  prince  of  duplicity, 
except  that  varied  were  his  methods  of  rendering  her  wretched, 
even  to  the  last.  When  her  lovely  little  child  was  born,  and  it 
was  laid  beside  its  mother  on  the  bed,  and  he  was  informed  he 
might  see  his  daughter,  after  gazing  at  it  with  an  exulting 
smile,  this  was  the  ejaculation  that  broke  from  him  :  '  Oh,  what 
an  implement  of  torture  have  I  acquired  in  you  ! '  Such  he 
rendered  it  by  his  eyes  and  manner,  keeping  her  in  a  perpetual 
alarm  for  its  safety  when  in  his  presence.  All  this  'reads 
madder  than  I  believe  he  was  :  but  she  had  not  then  made  up 
her  mind  to  disbelieve  his  pretended  insanity,  and  conceived  it 
best  to  intrust  her  secret  with  the  excellent  Dr.  Baillie  ;  telling 
him*  all  that  seemed  to  regard  the  state  of  her  husband's  mind, 
and  letting  his  advice  regulate  her  conduct.  Baillie  doubted  of 
his  derangement ;  but,  as  he  did  not  reckon  his  own  opinion 
infallible,  he  wished  her  to  take  precautions  as  if  her  husband 
was  so.  He  recommended  her  going  to  the  country,  but  to 
give  him  no  suspicion  of  her  intentions  of  remaining  there,  and, 
for  a  short  time,  to  show  no  coldness  in  her  letters,  till  she 
could  better  ascertain  his  state.  She  went,  regretting,  as  she 
told  me,  to  wear  any  semblance  but  the  truth.  A  short  time 
disclosed  the  story  to  the  world.  He  acted  the  part  of  a  man 
driven  to  despair  by  her  inflexible  resentment  and  by  the  arts 
of  a  governess  (once  a  servant  in  the  family)  who  hated  him. 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  455 

I  will  give  you,"  proceeds  Lady  Anne,  "  a  few  paragraphs 
transcribed  from  one  of  Lady  Byron's  own  letters  to  me.  It  is 
sorrowful  to  think,  that,  in  a  very  little  time,  this  young  and 
amiable  creature,  wise,  patient,  and  feeling,  will  have  her 
character  mistaken  by  every  one  who  reads  Byron's  works.  To 
rescue  her  from  this,  I  preserved  her  letters ;  and,  when  she 
a/terwards  expressed  a  fear  that  any  thing  of  her  writings 
should  ever  fall  into  hands  to  injure  him  (I  suppose  she  meant 
by  publication),  I  safely  assured  her  that  it  never  should.  But 
here  this  letter  shall  be  placed,  a  sacred  record  in  her  favor, 
unknown  to  herself:  — 

"  '  I  am  a  very  incompetent  judge  of  the  impression  which 
the  last  canto  of  "  Childe  Harold  "  may  produce  on  the  minds 
of  indifferent  readers.  It  contains  the  usual  trace  of  a  con 
science  restlessly  awake  ;  though  his  object  has  been  too  long  to 
aggravate  its  burden,  as  if  it  could  thus  be  oppressed  into 
eternal  stupor.  I  will  hope,  as  you  clo,  that  it  survives  for  his 
ultimate  good.  It  was  the  acuteness  of  his  remorse,  impenitent 
in  its  character,  which  so  long  seemed  to  demand  from  my 
compassion  to  spare  every  semblance  of  reproach,  every  look 
of  grief,  which  might  have  said  to  his  conscience,  "  You  have 
made  me  wretched."  I  am  decidedly  of  opinion  that  he  is 
responsible.  He  has  wished  to  be  thought  partially  deranged, 
or  on  the  brink  of  it,  to  perplex  observers,  and  prevent  them 
from  tracing  effects  to  their  real  causes  through  all  the  intrica 
cies  of  his  conduct.  I  was,  as  I  told  you,  at  one  time  the  dupe 
of  his  acted  insanity,  and  clung  to  the  former  delusions  in 
regard  to  the  motives  that  concerned  me  personally,  till  the 
whole  system  was  laid  bare.  He  is  the  absolute  monarch  of 
words,  and  uses  them,  as  Bonaparte  did  lives,  for  conquest, 
without  more  regard  to  their  intrinsic  value  ;  considering  them 
only  as  ciphers,  which  must  derive  all  their  import  from  the 
situation  in  which  he  places  them,  and  the  ends  to  which  he 
adapts  them  with  such  consummate  skill.  Why,  then,  you  will 
say,  does  he  not  employ  them  to  give  a  better  color  to  his  own 
character  ?  Because  he  is  too  good  an  actor  to  over-act,  or  to 
assume  a  moral  garb  which  it  would  be  easy  to  strip  off.  In 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 


regard  to  his  poetry,  egotism  is  the  vital  principle  of  his  imagi 
nation,  which  it  is  difficult  for  him  to  kindle  on  any  subject 
with  which  his  own  character  and  interests  are  not  identified  : 
but  by  the  introduction  of  fictitious  incidents,  by  change  of 
scene  or  time,  he  has  enveloped  his  poetical  disclosures  in  a 
system  impenetrable  except  to  a  very  few  ;  and  his  constant 
desire  of  creating  a  sensation  makes  him  not  averse  to  be  tie 
object  of  wonder  and  curiosity,  even  though  accompanied  by 
some  dark  and  vague  suspicions.  Nothing  has  contributed 
more  to  the  misunderstanding  of  his  real  character  than  the 
lonely  grandeur  in  which  he  shrouds  it,  and  his  affectation  of 
being  above  mankind,  when  he  exists  almost  in  their  voice. 
The  romance  of  -his  sentiments  is  another  feature  of  this  mask 
of  state.  I  know  no  one  more  habitually  destitute  of  that 
enthusiasm  he  so  beautifully  expresses,  and  to  which  he  can 
work  up  his  fancy  chiefly  by  contagion.  I  had  heard  he  was 
the  best  of  brothers,  the  most  generous  of  friends ;  and  I 
thought  such  feelings  only  required  to  be  warmed  and  cherished 
into  more  diffusive  beVievolence.  Though  these  opinions  are 
eradicated,  and  could  never  return  but  with  the  decay  of 
my  memory,  you  will  not  wonder  if  there  are  still  moments 
when  the  association  of  feelings  which  arose  from  them  soften 
and  sadden  my  thoughts.  But  I  have  not  thanked  you,  dearest 
Lady  Anne,  for  your  kindness  in  regard  to  a  principal  object,  — 
that  of  rectifying  false  impressions.  I  trust  you  understand  my 
wishes,  which  never  were  to  injure  Lord  Byron  in  any  way  : 
for,  though  he  would  not  suffer  me  to  remain  his  wife,  he  cannot 
prevent  me  from  continuing  his  friend  ;  and  it  was  from  con 
sidering  myself  as  such  that  I  silenced  the  accusations  by 
which  my  own  conduct  might  have  been  more  fully  justified. 
It  is  not  necessary  to  speak  ill  of  his  heart  in  general  :  it  is 
sufficient  that  to  me  it  was  hard  and  impenetrable  ;  that  my 
own  must  have  been  broken  before  his  could  have  been 
touched.  I  would  rather  represent  this  as  my  misfortune  than 
as  his  guilt  ;  but  surely  that  misfortune  is  not  to  be  made  .my 
crime  !  Such  are  my  feelings  :  you  will  judge  how  to  act.  His 
allusions  to  me  in  "Childe  Harold  "  are  cruel  and  cold,  but 
with  such  a  semblance  as  to  make  me  appear  so,  and  to  attract 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  457 

all  sympathy  to  himself.  It  is  said  in  this  poem  that  hatred  of 
him  will  be  taught  as  a  lesson  to  his  child.  I  might  appeal  to 
ail  who  have  ever  heard  me  speak  of  him,  and  still  more  to  my 
own  heart,  to  witness  that  there  has  been  no  moment  when  I 
have  remembered  injury  otherwise  than  affectionately  and 
sorrowfully.  It  is  not  my  duty  to  give  way  to  hopeless  and 
wholly  unrequited  affection  ;  but,  so  long  as  I  live,  my  chief 
struggle  will  probably  be  not  to  remember  him  too  kindly.  I 
do  not  seek  the  sympathy  of  the  world  ;  but  I  wish  to  be 
known  by  those  whose  opinion  is  valuable,  and  whose  kindness 
is  dear  to  me.  Among  such,  my  dear  Lady  Anne,  you  will 
ever  be  remembered  by  your  truly  affectionate, 

"'A.  BYRON.'" 

It  is  the  province  of  your  readers,  and  of  the  world  at  large, 
to  judge  between  the  two  testimonies  now  before  them,  —  Lady 
Byron's  in  1816  and  1818,  and  that  put  forward  in  1869  by  Mrs. 
B.  Stowe,  as  communicated  by  Lady  Byron  thirteen  years  ago. 
In  the  face  of  the  evidence  now  given,  positive,  negative,  and 
circumstantial,  there  can  be  but  two  alternatives  in  the  case : 
either  Mrs.  B.  Stowe  must  have  entirely  misunderstood  Lady 
Byron,  and  been  thus  led  into  error  and  misstatement ;  or  we 
must  conclude,  that,  under  the  pressure  of  a  lifelong  and  secret 
sorrow,  Lady  Byron's  mind  had  become  clouded  with  an  hallu 
cination  in  respect  of  the  particular  point  in  question. 

The  reader  will  admire  the  noble  but  severe  character  dis 
played  in  Lady  Byron's  letter ;  but  those  who  keep  in  view 
what  her  first  impressions  were,  as  above  recorded,  may 
probably  place  a  more  lenient  interpretation  than  hers  upon 
some  of  the  incidents  alleged  to  Byron's  discredit.  I  shall 
conclude  with  some  remarks  upon  his  character,  written  shortly 
after  his  death  by  a  wise,  virtuous,  and  charitable  judge,  the 
ki':e  Sir  Walter  Scott,  likewise  in  a  letter  to.  Lady  Anne  Bar 
nard  :  — 

"  Fletcher's  account  of  poor  Byron  is  extremely  interesting. 
I  had  always  a  strong  attachment  to  that  unfortunate  though 
most  richly-gifted  man,  because  I  thought  I  saw  that  his  virtues 


458  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 

(and  tie  had  many)  were  his  own ;  and  his  eccentricities  the 
result  of  an  irritable  temperament,  which  sometimes  approached 
nearly  to  mental  disease.  Those  who  are  gifted  with  strong 
nerves,  a  regular  temper,  and  habitual  self-command,  are  not, 
perhaps,  aware  how  much  of  what  they  may  think  virtue  they 
owe  to  constitution  ;  and  such  are  but  too  severe  judges  of 
men  like  Byron,  whose  mind,  like  a  day  of  alternate  storm  and 
sunshine,  is  all  dark  shades  and  stray  gleams  of  light,  instead 
of  the  twilight  gray  which  illuminates  happier  though  less 
distinguished  mortals.  I  always  thought,  that,  when  a  moral 
proposition  was  placed  plainly  before  Lord  Byron,  his  mind 
yielded  a  pleased  and  willing  assent  to  it;  but,  if  there  was 
any  side-view  given  in  the  way  of  raillery  or  otherwise,  he  was 
willing  enough  to  evade  conviction.  ...  It  augurs  ill  for  the 
cause  of  Greece  that  this  master-spirit  should  have  been  with 
drawn  from  their  assistance  just  as  he  was  obtaining  a  complete 
ascendency  over  their  counsels.  I  have  seen  several  letters 
from  the  Ionian  Islands,  all  of  which  unite  in  speaking  in  the 
highest  praise  of  the  wisdom  and  temperance  of  his  counsels, 
and  the  ascendency  he  was  obtaining  over  the  turbulent  and 
ferocious  chiefs  of  the  insurgents.  I  have  some  verses  written 
by  him  on  his  last  birthday  :  they  breathe  a  spirit  of  affection 
towards  his  wife,  and  a  desire  of  dying  in  battle,  which  seems 
like  an  anticipation  of  his  approaching  fate." 

I  remain,  sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

LINDSAY. 

DUNECHT,  Sept.  3. 


DR.   FORBES  WINSLOW'S   LETTER  TO   "THE 
LONDON   TIMES." 

TO    THE   EDITOR. 

SIR,  —  Your  paper  of  the  4th  of  September,  containing  an 
able  and  deeply  interesting  "  Vindication  of  Lord  Byron,"  has 
followed  me  to  this  place.  With  the  general  details  of  the 
"  True  Story  "  (as  it  is  termed)  of  Lady  Byron's  separation  from 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  459 

her  husband,  as  recorded  in  "  Macmillan's  Magazine,"  I  have  no 
desire  or  intention  to  grapple.  It  is  only  with  the  hypothesis 
of  insanity,  as  suggested  by  the  clever  writer  of  the  "  Vindica 
tion  "  to  account  for  Lady  Byron's  sad  revelations  to  Mrs. 
Beecher  Stowe,  with  which  I  propose  to  deal.  I  do  not  be 
lieve  that  the  mooted  theory  of  mental  aberration  can,  in  this 
case,  be  for  a  moment  maintained.  If  Lady  Byron's  statement 
of  facts  to  Mrs.  B.  Stowe  is  to  be  viewed  as  the  creation  of  a 
distempered  fancy,  a  delusion  or  hallucination  of  an  insane 
mind,  at  what  part  of  the  narrative  are  we  to  draw  the  bounda 
ry-line  between  fact  and  delusion,  sanity  and  insanity  ?  Where 
are  we  to  fix  the  point  cTappui  of  the  lunacy  ?  Again  :  is  the 
alleged  "  hallucination  "  to  be  considered  as  strictly  confined  to 
the  idea  that  Lord  Byron  had  committed  the  frightful  sin  of  in 
cest  ?  or  is  the  whole  of  the  "  True  Story  "  of  her  married  life, 
as  reproduced  with  such  terrible  minuteness  by  Mrs.  Beecher 
Stowe,  to  be  viewed  as  the  delusion  of  a  disordered  fancy  ?  If 
Lady  Byron  was  the  subject  of  an  "  hallucination  "  with  regard 
to  her  husband,  I  think  it  not  unreasonable  to  conclude  that  the 
mental  alienation  existed  on  the  day  of  her  marriage.  If  this 
proposition  be  accepted,  the  natural  inference  will  be,  that  the 
details  of  the  conversation  which  Lady  Byron  represents  to 
have  occurred  between  herself  and  Lord  Byron  as  soon  as  they 
entered  the  carriage  never  took  place.  Lord  Byron  is  said  to 
have  remarked  to  Lady  Byron,  "  You  might  have  prevented 
this  (or  words  to  this  effect) :  you  will  now  find  that  you  have 
married  a  devil."  Is  this  alleged  conversation  to  be  viewed  as 
facf,  or  fiction  ?  evidence  of  sanity,  or  insanity  ?  Is  the  revelation 
which  Lord  Byron  is  said  to  have  made  to  his  wife  of  his  "in 
cestuous  passion  "  another  delusion,  having  no  foundation  ex 
cept  in  his  wife's  disordered  imagination  ?  Are  his  alleged 
attempts  to  justify  to  Lady  Byron's  mind  the  morale  of  the  plea 
of  "Continental  latitude,  —  the  good-humored  marriage,  in 
which  complaisant  couples  mutually  agree  to  form  the  cloak  for 
each  other's  infidelities,"  —  another  morbid  perversion  of  her 
imagination  ?  Did  this  conversation  ever  take  place  ?  It  will  be 
difficult  to  separate  one  part  of  the  "True  Story  "  from  another, 
and  maintain  that  this  portion  indicates  insanity,  and  that  por- 


460  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 

tion  represents  sanity.  If  we  accept  the  hypothesis  of  hallu 
cination,  we  are  bound  to  view  the  whole  of  Lady  Byrou's 
conversations  with  Mrs.  B.  Stowe,  and  the  written  statement 
laid  before  her,  as  the  wild  and  incoherent  representations  of  a 
lunatic.  On  the  day  when  Lady  Byron  parted  from  her  hus 
band,  did  she  enter  his  private  room,  and  find  him  with  the 
"  object  of  his  guilty  passion  "  ?  and  did  he  say,  as  they  parted, 
"  When  shall  we  three  meet  again  ?  "  Is  this  to  be  considered 
as  an  actual  occurrence,  or  as  another  form  of  hallucination  ? 
It  is  quite  inconsistent  with  the  theory  of  Lady  Byron's  insanity 
to  imagine  that  her  delusion  was  restricted  to  the  idea  of  his 
having  committed  "  incest."  In  common  fairness,  we  are  bound 
to  view  the  aggregate  mental  phenomena  which  she  exhibited 
from  the  day  of  the  marriage  to  their  final  separation  and  her 
death.  No  person  practically  acquainted  with  the  true  charac 
teristics  of  insanity  would  affirm,  that,  had  this  idea  of  "  incest " 
been  an  insane  hallucination,  Lady  Byron  could,  from  the 
lengthened  period  which  intervened  between  her  unhappy  mar 
riage  and  death,  have  refrained  from  exhibiting  her  mental  alien 
ation,  not  only  to  her  legal  advisers  and  trustees,  but  to  others, 
exacting  no  pledge  of  secrecy  from  them  as  to  her  disordered 
impressions.  Lunatics  do  for  a  time,  and  for  some  special  pur 
pose,  most  cunningly  conceal  their  delusions ;  but  they  have  not 
the  capacity  to  struggle  for  thirty-six  years  with  a  frightful  hal 
lucination,  similar  to  the  one  Lady  Byron  is  alleged  to  have  had, 
without  the  insane  state  of  mind  becoming  obvious  to  those 
with  whom  they  are  daily  associating.  Neither  is  it  consistent 
with  experience  to  suppose,  that,  if  Lady  Byron  had  been  a 
monomaniac,  her  state  of  disordered  understanding  would  have 
been  restricted  to  one  hallucination.  Her  diseased  brain,  affect 
ing  the  normal  action  of  thought,  would,  in  all  probability,  have 
manifested  other  symptoms  besides  those  referred  to  of  aberra 
tion  of  intellect. 

During  the  last  thirty  years,  I  have  not  met  with  a  case  of 
insanity  (assuming  the  hypothesis  of  hallucination)  at  all  paral 
lel  with  that  of  Lady  Byron's.  In  my  experience,  it  is  unique. 
I  never  saw  a  patient  with  such  a  delusion.  If  it  should  be  es 
tablished,  by  the  statements  of  those  who  are  the  depositors  of 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  461 

the  secret  (and  they  are  now  bound,  in  vindication  of  Lord  By 
ron's  memory,  to  deny,  if  they  have  the  power  of  doing  so,  this 
most  frightful  accusation),  that  the  idea  of  incest  did  unhappily 
cross  Lady  Byron's  mind  prior  to  her  finally  leaving  him,  it  no 
doubt  arose  from  a  most  inaccurate  knowledge  of  facts  and  per 
fectly  unjustifiable  data,  and  was  not,  in  the  right  psychological 
acceptation  of  the  phrase,  an  insane  hallucination. 

Sir,  I  remain  your  obedient  servant, 

FORBES  WINSLOW,  M.D. 
ZARINGERHOF,   FREBURG-EN-BREISGAU,  Sept.  8,  1869. 


EXTRACT  FROM  LORD  BYRON'S  EXPUNGED 
LETTER. 

TO    MR.    MURRAY. 

"  BOLOGNA,  June  7,  1819. 

..."  Before  I  left  Venice,  I  had  returned  to  you  your  late,  and 
Mr.  Hobhouse's  sheets  of  'Juan.'  Don't  wait  for  further  answers 
from  me,  but  address  yours  to  Venice  as  usual.  I  know  nothing 
of  my  own  movements.  I  may  return  there  in  a  few  days,  or 
not  for  some  time  :  all  this  depends  on  circumstances.  I  left 
Mr.  Hoppner  very  well.  My  daughter  Allegra  is  well  too,  and 
is  growing  pretty  :  her  hair  is  growing  darker,  and  her  eyes  are 
blue.  Her  temper  and  her  ways,  Mr.  Hoppner  says,  are  like 
mine,  as  well  as  her  features  :  she  will  make,  in  that  case,  a 
manageable  young  lady. 

"  I  have  never  seen  any  thing  of  Ada,  the  little  Electra  'of  my 
Mycenae.  .  .  .  But  there  will  come  a  day  of  reckoning,  even  if 

I  should  not  live  to  see  it.     I  have  at  least  seen  shivered, 

who  was  one  of  my  assassins.  When  that  man  was  doing  his 
worst  to  uproot  my  whole  family,  —  tree,  branch,  and  blossoms  ; 
when,  after  taking  my  retainer,  he  went  over  to  them  ;  when  he 
was  bringing  desolation  on  my  hearth,  and  destruction  on  my 
household  gods,  —  did  he  think,  that,  in  less  than  three  years,  a 
natural  event,  a  severe  domestic,  but  an  expected  and  com 
mon  calamity,  would  lay  his  carcass  in  a  cross-road,  or  stamp 


462      MISCELLANEOUS  DOCUMENTS. 

his  name  in  a  verdict  of  lunacy  ?  Did  he  (who  in  his  sexage 
nary  .  .  .)  reflect  or  consider  what  my  feelings  must  have  been 
when  wife  and  child  and  sister,  and  name  and  fame  and  country, 
were  to  be  my  sacrifice  on  his  legal  altar  ?  —  and  this  at  a  moment 
when  my  health  was  declining,  my  fortune  embarrassed,  and  my 
mind  had  been  shaken  by  many  kinds  of  disappointment  ?  while 
I  was  yet  young,  and  might  have  reformed  what  might  be  wrong 
in  my  conduct,  and  retrieved  what  was  perplexing  in  my  affairs  ? 
But  he  is  in  his  grave,  and  — "  What  a  long  letter  I  have  scrib 
bled  !  "  . 


IN  order  that  the  reader  may  measure  the  change  of  moral 
tone  with  regard  to  Lord  Byron,  wrought  by  the  constant  efforts 
of  himself  and  his  party,  we  give  the  two  following  extracts  from 
"  Blackwood." 

The  first  is  "  Blackwood  "  in  1819,  just  after  the  publication 
of  "  Don  Juan  :  "  the  second  is  "  Blackwood  "  in  1825. 

"  In  the  composition  of  this  work,  there  is,  unquestionably,  a 
more  thorough  and  intense  infusion  of  genius  and  vice,  power 
and  profligacy,  than  in  any  poem  which  had  ever  before  been 
written  in  the  English,  or,  indeed,  in  any  other  modern  language. 
Had  the  wickedness  been  less  inextricably  mingled  with  the 
beauty  and  the  grace  and  the  strength  of  a  most  inimitable  and 
incomprehensible  Muse,  our  task  would  have  been  easy.  '  Don 
Juan '  is  by  far  the  most  admirable  specimen  of  the  mixture  of 
ease,  strength,  gayety,  and  seriousness,  extant  in  the  whole  body 
of  English  poetry  :  the  author  has  devoted  his  powers  to  ihe 
worst  of  purposes  and  passions  ;  and  it  increases  his  guilt  and 
our  sorrow  that  he  has  devoted  them  entire. 

"  The  moral  strain  of  the  whole  poem  is  pitched  in  the  lowest 
key.  Love,  honor,  patriotism,  religion,  are  mentioned  only  to 
be  scoffed  at,  as  if  their  sole  resting-place  were,  or  ought  to  be, 
in  the  bosoms  of  fools.  It  appears,  in  short,  as  if  this  misera 
ble  man,  having  exhausted  every  species  of  sensual  gratification, 
having  drained  the  cup  of  sin  even  to  its  bitterest  dregs,  were 
resolved  to  show  us  that  he  is  no  longer  a'  human  being,  even 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  463 

in  his  frailties,  but  a  cool,  unconcerned  fiend,  laughing  with  a 
detestable  glee  over  the  whole  of  the  better  and  worse  elements 
of  which  human  life  is  composed ;  treating  well-nigh  with  equal 
derision  the  most  pure  of  virtues,  and  the  most  odious  of  vices; 
dead  alike  to  the  beauty  of  the  one,  and  the  deformity  of  the 
other  ;  a  mere  heartless  despiser  of  that  frail  but  noble  human 
ity,  whose  type  was  never  exhibited  in  a  shape  of  more  deplora 
ble  degradation  than  in  his  own  contemptuously  distinct  deline 
ation  of  himself.  To  confess  to  his  Maker,  and  weep  over  in 
secret  agonies  the  wildest  and  most  fantastic  transgressions  of 
heart  and  mind,  is  the  part  of  a  conscious  sinner,  in  whom  sin 
has  not  become  the  sole  principle  of  life  and  action  ;  but  to 
lay  bare  to  the  eye  of  man  and  of  woman  all  the  hidden  con 
vulsions  of  a  wicked  spirit,  and  to  do  all  this  without  one  symp 
tom  of  contrition,  remorse,  or  hesitation,  with  a  calm,  careless 
ferociousness  of  contented  and  satisfied  depravity,  —  this  was  an 
insult  which  no  man  of  genius  had  ever  before  dared  to  put 
upon  his  Creator  or  his  species.  Impiously  railing  against  his 
God,  madly  and  meanly  disloyal  to  his  sovereign  and  his  coun 
try,  and  brutally  outraging  all  the  best  feelings  of  female  honor, 
affection,  and  confidence,  how  small  a  part  of  chivalry  is  that 
which  remains  to  the  descendant  of  the  Byrons  !  —  a  gloomy 
visor  and  a  deadly  weapon ! 

"  Those  who  are  acquainted  (as  who  is  not  ?)  with  the  main 
incidents  in  the  private  life  of  Lord  Byron,  and  who  have  not 
seen  this  production,  will  scarcely  believe  that  malignity  should 
have  carried  him  so  far  as  to  make  him  commence  a  filthy  and 
impious  poem  with  an  elaborate  satire  on  the  character  and 
manners  of  his  wife,  from  whom,  even  by  his  own  confession, 
he  has  been  separated  only  in  consequence  of  his  own  cruel  and 
heartless  misconduct.  It  is  in  vain  for  Lord  Byron  to  attempt 
in  any  way  to  justify  his  own  behavior  in  that  affair  ;  and,  now 
that  he  has  so  openly  and  audaciously  invited  inquiry  and 
reproach,  we  do  not  see  any  good  reason  why  he  should  not 
be  plainly  told  so  by  the  general  voice  of  his  countrymen.  It 
would  not  be  an  easy  matter  to  persuade  any  man  who  has  any 
knowledge  of  the  nature  of  woman,  that  a  female  such  as  Lord 
Byron  has  himself  described  his  wife  to  be  would  rashly  or 


464      MISCELLANEOUS  DOCUMENTS. 

hastily  or  lightly  separate  herself  from  the  love  with  which 
she  had  once  been  inspired  for  such  a  man  as  he  is  or  was. 
Had  he  not  heaped  insult  upon  insult,  and  scorn  upon  scorn, 
had  he  not  forced  the  iron  of  his  contempt  into  her  very  soul, 
there  is  no  woman  of  delicacy  and  virtue,  as  he  admitted  Lady 
Byron  to  be,  who  would  not  have  hoped  all  things,  and  suffered 
all  things,  from  one,  her  love  of  whom  must  have  been  inwoven 
with  so  many  exalting  elements  of  delicious  pride,  and  more 
delicious  humility.  To  offend  the  love  of  such  a  woman  -was 
wrong,  but  it  might  be  forgiven  ;  to  desert  her  was  unmanly, 
but  he  might  have  returned,  and  wiped  forever  from  her  eyes 
the  tears  of  her  desertion :  but  to  injure  and  to  desert,  and  then 
to  turn  back  and  wound  her  widowed  privacy  with  unhallowed 
strains  of  cold-blooded  mockery,  was  brutally,  fiendishly,  inex- 
piably  mean.  For  impurities  there  might  be  some  possibility 
of  pardon,  were  they  supposed  to  spring  only  from  the  reckless 
buoyancy  of  young  blood  and  fiery  passions  ;  for  impiety  there 
might  at  least  be  pity,  were  it  visible  that  the  misery  of  the 
impious  soul  equalled  its  darkness  :  but  for  offences  such  as 
this,  which  cannot  proceed  either  from  the  madness  of  sudden 
impulse  or  the  bewildered  agonies  of  doubt,  but  which  speak 
the  wilful  and  determined  spite  of  an  unrepenting,  unsoftened, 
smiling,  sarcastic,  joyous  sinner,  there  can  be  neither  pity  nor 
pardon.  Our  knowledge  that  it  is  committed  by  one  of  the  most 
powerful  intellects  our  island  ever  has  produced  lends  intensity 
a  thousand-fold  to  the  bitterness  of  our  indignation.  Every 
high  thought  that  was  ever  kindled  in  our  breasts  by  the  Muse 
of  Byron,  every  pure  and  lofty  feeling  that  ever  responded  from 
within  us  to  the  sweep  of  his  majestic  inspirations,  every  re 
membered  moment  of  admiration  and  enthusiasm,  is  up  in  arms 
against  him.  We  look  back  with  a  mixture  of  wrath  and  scorn 
to  the  delight  with  which  we  suffered  ourselves  to  be  filled  by 
one,  who,  all  the  while  he  was  furnishing  us  with  delight,  must, 
we  cannot  doubt  it,  have  been  mocking  us  with  a  cruel  mock 
ery  ;  less  cruel  only,  because  less  peculiar,  than  that  with  which 
he  has  now  turned  him  from  the  lurking-place  of  his  selfish  and 
polluted  exile  to  pour  the  pitiful  chalice  of  his  contumely  on 
the  surrendered  devotion  of  a  virgin  bosom,  and  the  holy  hopes 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  465 

of  the  mother  of  his  child.  It  is  indeed  a  sad  and  a  humiliating 
thing  to  know,  that,  in  the  same  year,  there  proceeded  from  the 
same  pen  two  productions  in  all  things  so  different  as  the  fourth 
canto  of  '  Childe  Harold  '  and  this  loathsome  '  Don  Juan.' 

"  We  have  mentioned  one,  and,  all  will  admit,  the  worst  in 
stance  of  the  private  malignity  which  has  been  embodied  in  so 
many  passages  of  '  Don  Juan  ; '  and  we  are  quite  sure  the 
lofty-minded  and  virtuous  men  whom  Lord  Byron  has  debased 
himself  by  insulting  will  close  the  volume  which  contains  their 
own  injuries,  with  no  feelings  save  those  of  pity  for  him  that 
has  inflicted  them,  and  for  her  who  partakes  so  largely  in  the 
same  injuries."  —  August,  1819. 


"  BLACKWOOD,"  —  itcrum. 

"  WE  shall/like  all  others  who  say  any  thing  about  Lord  By 
ron,  begin,  sans  apologie,  with  his  personal  character.  This  is  the 
great  object  of  attack,  the  constant  theme  of  open  vituperation 
to  one  set,  and  the  established  mark  for  all  the  petty  but  deadly 
artillery  of  sneers,  shrugs,  groans,  to  another.  Two  widely 
different  matters,  however,  are  generally,  we  might  say  univer 
sally,  mixed  up  here,  —  the  personal  character  of  the  man,  as 
proved  by  his  course  of  life  ;  and  his  personal  character,  as 
revealed  in  or  guessed  from  his  books.  Nothing  can  be  more 
unfair  than  the  style  in  which  this  mixture  is  made  use  of.  Is 
there  a  noble  sentiment,  a  lofty  thought,  a  sublime  conception, 
in  the  book  ?  '  Ah,  yes  ! '  is  the  answer.  '  But  what  of  that  ? 
It  is  only  the  roue  Byron  that  speaks  ! '  Is  a  kind,  a  generous 
action  of  the  man  mentioned  ?  '  Yes,  yes  ! '  comments  the 
sage ;  '  but  only  remember  the  atrocities  of  "  Don  Juan  :  " 
depend  on  it,  this,  if  it  be  true,  must  have  been  a  mere  freak 
of  caprice,  or  perhaps  a  bit  of  vile  hypocrisy.'  Salvation  is 
thus  shut  out  at  either  entrance  :  the  poet  damns  the  man,  and 
the  man  the  poet. 

"  Nobody  will  suspect  us  of  being  so  absurd  as  to  suppose 
that  it  is  possible  for  people  to  draw  no  inferences  as  to  the 
3° 


466  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 

character  of  an  author  from  his  book,  or  to  shut  entirely  out 
of  view,  in  judging  of  a  book,  that  which  they  may  happen  to 
know  about  the  man  who  writes  it.  The  cant  of  the  day  sup 
poses  such  things  to  be  practicable  ;  but  they  are  not.  But 
what  we  complain  of  and  scorn  is  the  extent  to  which  they  are 
carried  in  the  case  of  this  particular  individual,  as  compared 
with  others  ;  the  impudence  with  which  things  are  at  once 
assumed  to  be  facts  in  regard  to  his  private,  history ;  and  the 
absolute  unfairness  of  never  arguing  from  his  writings  to  him, 
but  for  evil. 

"  Take  the  man,  in  the  first  place,  as  unconnected,  in  so  far 
as  we  can  thus  consider  him,  with  his  works  ;  and  ask,  What, 
after  all,  are  the  bad  things  we  know  of  him  ?  Was  he  dis 
honest  or  dishonorable  ?  had  he  ever  done  any  thing  to  forfeit, 
or  even  endanger,  his  rank  as  a  gentleman  ?  Most  assuredly, 
no  such  accusations  have  ever  been  maintained  against  Lord 
Byron  the  private  nobleman,  although  something  of  the  sort 
may  have  been  insinuated  against  the  author/  '  But  he  was 
such  a  profligate  in  his  morals,  that  his  name-  cannot  be  men 
tioned  with  any  thing  like  tolerance.'  Was  he  sox  indeed? 
We  should  like  extremely  to  have  the  catechising  of  the  in 
dividual  man  who  says  so.  That  he  indulged  in  sensual  vices, 
to  some  extent,  is  certain,  and  to  be  regretted  and  condemned. 
But  was  he  worse,  as  to  such  matters,  than  the  enormous 
majority  of  those  who  join  in' the  cry  of  horror  upon  this  occa 
sion  ?  We  most  assuredly  believe  exactly  the  reverse  ;  and  we 
rest  our  belief  upon  very  plain  and  intelligible  grounds.  First, 
we  hold  it  impossible  that  the  majority  of  mankind,  or  that  any 
thing  beyond  a  very  small  minority,  are  or  can  be  entitled  to 
talk  of  sensual  profligacy  as  having  formed  a  part  of  the  life 
and  character  of  the  man,  who,  dying  at  -six  and  thirty, 
bequeathed  a  collection  of  works  such  as  Byron's  to  the  world. 
Secondly,  we  hold  it  impossible,  that  laying  the.  extent  of  his 
intellectual  labors  out  of  the  question,  and  looking  only  to  the 
nature  of  the  intellect  which  generated,  and  delighted  in  gene 
rating,  such  beautiful  and  noble  conceptions  as  are  to  be  found 
in  almost  all  Lord  Byron's  works,  —  we  hold  it  impossible  that 
very  many  men  can  be  at  once  capable  of  comprehending  these 


MISCELLANEOUS  DOCUMENTS.      467 

conceptions,  and  entitled  to  consider  sensual  profligacy  as 
having  formed  the  principal,  or  even  a  principal,  trait  in  Lord 
Byron's  character.  Thirdly,  and  lastly,  we  have  never  been 
able  to  hear  any  one  fact  established  which  could  prove  Lord 
Byron  to  deserve  any  thing  like  the  degree  or  even  kind  of 
odium  which  has,  in  regard  to  matters  of  this  class,  been 
heaped  upon  his  name.  We  have  no  story  of  base  unmanly 
seduction,  or  false  -and  villanous  intrigue,  against  him,  —  none 
whatever.  It  seems  to  us  quite  clear,  that,  if  he  had  been  at 
all  what  is  called  in  society  an  unprincipled  sensualist,  there 
must  have  been  many  such  stories,  authentic  and  authenticated. 
But  there  are  none  such,  —  absolutely  none.  His  name  has 
been  coupled  with  the  names  of  three,  four,  or  more  women  of 
some  rank  :  but  what  kind  of  women  ?  Every  one  of  them,  in 
the  first  place,  about  as  old  as  himself  in  years,  and  therefore" 
a  great  deal  older  in  character  ;  every  one  of  them  utterly 
battered  in  reputation  long  before  he  came  into  contact  with 
them,  —  licentious,  unprincipled,  characterless  women.  What 
father  has  ever  reproached  him  with  the  ruin  of  his  daughter  ? 
What  husband  has  denounced  him  as  the  destroyer  of  his 
peace  ? 

"Let  us  not  be  mistaken.  We  are  not  defending  the 
offences  of  which  Lord  Byron  unquestionably  was  guilty ; 
neither  are  we  finding  fault  with  those,  who,  after  looking 
honestly  within  and  around  themselves,  condemn  those  offences, 
no  matter  how  severely  :  but  we  are  speaking  of  society  in 
general  as  it  now  exists  ;  and  we  say  that  there  is  vile  hypocrisy 
in  the  tone  in  which  Lord  Byron  is  talked  of  there.  We  say, 
that,  although  all  offences  against  purity  of  life  are  miserable 
things,  and  condemnable  things,  the  degrees  of  guilt  attached  to 
different  offences  of  this  class  are  as  widely  different  as  are  the 
degrees  of  guilt  between  an  assault  and  a  murder  ;  and  we  con 
fess  our  belief,  that  no  man  of  Byron's  station  and  age  could 
have  run  much  risk  in  gaining  a  very  bad  name  in  society,  had 
a  course  of  life  similar  (in  so  far  as  we  know  any  thing  of  that) 
to  Lord  Byron's  been  the  only  thing  chargeable  against  him. 

"  The  last  poem  he  wrote  was  produced  upon  his  birthday, 
not  many  weeks  before  he  died.  We  consider  it  as  one  of  the 


468  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 

finest  and  most  touching  effusions  of  his  noble  genius.  We 
think  he  who  reads  it,  and  can  ever  after  bring  himself  to 
regard  even  the  worst  transgressions  that  have  been  charged 
against  Lord  Byron  with  any  feelings  but  those  of  humble  sor 
row  and  manly  pity,  is  not  deserving  of  the  name  of  man.  The 
deep  and  passionate  struggles  with  the  inferior  elements  of  his 
nature  (and  ours)  which  it  records  ;  the  lofty  thirsting  after 
purity  ;  the  heroic  devotion  of  a  soul  half  weary  of  life,  because 
unable  to  believe  in  its  own  powers  to  live  up  to  what  it  so 
intensely  felt  to  be,  and  so  reverentially  honored  as,  the  right ; 
the  whole  picture  of  this  mighty  spirit,  often  darkened,  but  never 
sunk,  —  often  erring,  but  never  ceasing  to  see  and  to  worship  the 
beauty  of  virtue  ;  the  repentance  of  it ;  the  anguish  ;  the  aspira 
tion,  almost  stifled  in  despair,  —  the  whole  of  this  is  such  a  whole, 
that  we  are  sure  no  man  can  read  these  solemn  verses  too  often  ; 
and  we  recommend  them  for  repetition,  as  the  best  and  most 
conclusive  of  all  possible  answers  whenever  the  name  of 
Byron  is  insulted  by  those  who  permit  themselves  to  forget 
nothing,  either  in  his  life  or  in  his  writings,  but  the  good."  — 
[1825.] 


THE  following  letters  of  Lady  Byron's  are  reprinted  from  the 
Memoirs  of  H.  C.  Robinson.  They  are  given  that  the  reader 
may  form  some  judgment  of  the  strength  and  activity  of  her 
mind,  and  the  elevated  class  of  subjects  upon  which  it  habitually 
dwelt. 

LADY   BYRON    TO   H.    C.    R. 

"DEC.  31,  1853. 

"DEAR  MR.  CRABB  ROBINSON,  —  I  have  an  inclination,  if  I 
were  not  afraid  of  trespassing  on  your  time  (but  you  can  put  my 
letter  by  for  any  leisure  moment),  to  enter  upon  the  history  of 
a  character  which  I  think  less  appreciated  than  it  ought  to  be. 
Men,  I  observe,  do  not  understand  men  in  certain  points,  with 
out  a  woman's  interpretation.  Those  points,  of  course,  relate 
to  feelings. 


MISCELLANEOUS   DOCUMENTS.  469 

"  Here  is  a  man  taken  by  most  of  those  who  come  in  his  way 
either  for  Dry-as-dust,  Matter-of-fact,  or  for  a  '  vain  visionary.' 
There  are,  doubtless,  some  defective  or  excessive  characteristics 
which  give  rise  to  those  impressions. 

"  My  acquaintance  was  made,  oddly  enough,  with  him  twenty- 
seven  years  ago.  A  pauper  said  to  me  of  him,  *  He's  the  poor 
man's  doctor.'  Such  a  recommendation  seemed  to  me  a  good 
one  :  and  I  also  knew  that  his  organizing  head  had  formed  the 
first  district  society  in  England  (for  Mrs.  Fry  told  me  she  could 
not  have  effected  it  without  his  aid) ;  yet  he  has  always  ignored 
his  own  share  of  it.  I  felt  in  him  at  once  the  curious  combina 
tion  of  the  Christian  and  the  cynic,  — of  reverence  for  man,  and 
contempt  of.  men.  It  was  then  an  internal  war,  but  one  in 
which  it  was  evident  to  me  that  the  holier  cause  would  be  vic 
torious,  because  there  was  deep  belief,  and,  as  far  as  I  could 
learn,  a  blameless  and  benevolent  life.  He  appeared  only  to 
want  sunshine.  It  was  a  plant  which  could  not  be  brought  to 
perfection  in  darkness.  He  had  begun  life  by  the  most  painful 
conflict  between  filial  duty  and  conscience,  —  a  large  provision 
in  the  church  secured  for  him  by  his  father  ;  but  he  could  not 
sign.  There  was  discredit,  as  you  know,  attached  to  such  Scru 
ples. 

"  He  was  also,  when  I  first  knew  him,  under  other  circum 
stances  of  a  nature  to  depress  him,  and  to  make  him  feel  that 
he  was  unjustly  treated.  The  gradual  removal  of  these  called 
forth  his  better  nature  in  thankfulness  to  God.  Still  the  old 
misanthropic  modes  of  expressing  himself  obtruded  themselves 
at  times.  This  passed  in  '48  between  him  and  Robertson. 
Robertson  said  to  me,  '  I  want  to  know  something  about 
ragged  schools.'  I  replied,  '  You  had  better  ask  Dr.-  King : 
he  knows  more  about  them.'  —  'I?'  said  Dr.  King.  'I 
take  care  to  know  nothing  of  ragged  schools,  lest  they  should 
make  me  ragged.'  Robertson  did  not  see  through  it.  Perhaps 
I  had  been  taught  to  understand  such  suicidal  speeches  by  my 
cousin,  Lord  Melbourne. 

"  The  example  of  Christ,  imperfectly  as  it  may  be  understood 
by  him,  has  been  ever  before  his  eyes  :  he  woke  to  the  thought 
of  following  it,  and  he  went  to  rest  consoled  or  rebuked  by  it 


47O  MISCELLANEOUS   DOCUMENTS. 

After  nearly  thirty  years  of  intimacy,  I  may,  without  presump 
tion,  form  that  opinion.  There  is  something  pathetic  to  me  in 
seeing  any  one  so  unknown.  Even  the  other  medical  friends 
of  Robertson,  when  I  knew  that  Dr.  King  felt  a  woman's 
tenderness,  said  on  one  occasion  to  him,  '  But  we  know  that 
you,  Dr.  King,  are  above  all  feeling.'' 

"  If  I  have  made  the  character  more  consistent  to  you  by 
putting  in  these  bits  of  mosaic,  my  pen  will  not  have  been  ill 
employed,  nor  unpleasingly  to  you. 

"  Yours  truly, 

"A.  NOEL  BYRON." 

LADY 'BYRON   TO    H.    C.    R. 

"BRIGHTON,  Nov.  15,  1854. 

"  The  thoughts  of  all  this  public  and  private  suffering  have 
taken  the  life  out  of  my  pen  when  I  tried  to  write  on  matters 
which  would  otherwise  have  been  most  interesting  to  me  :  these 
seemed  the  shadows,  that  the  stern  reality.  It  is  good,  how 
ever,  to  be  drawn  out  of  scenes  in  which  one  is  absorbed  most 
unprofitably,  and  to  have  one's  natural  interests  revived  by  such 
a  letter  as  I  have  to  thank  you  for,  as  well  as  its  predecessor. 
You  touch  upon  the  very  points  which  do  interest  me  the  most, 
habitually.  The  change  of  form,  and  enlargement  of  design,  in 
'  The  Prospective '  had  led  me  to  express  to  one  of  the  promoters 
of  that  object  my  desire  to  contribute.  The  religious  crisis  is 
instant ;  but  the  man  for  it  ?  The  next  best  thing,  if,  as  I  believe, 
he  is  not  to  be  found  in  England,  is  an  association  of  such  men 
as  are  to  edit  the  new  periodical.  An  address  delivered  by 
Freeman  Clarke  at  Boston,  last  May,  makes  me  think  him  bet 
ter  fitted  for  a  leader  than  any  other  of  the  religious  '  Free 
thinkers.'  I  wish  I  could  send  you  my  one  copy ;  but  you  do 
not  need  it,  and  others  do.  His  object  is  the  same  as  that  of 
the  '  Alliance  Universelle  : '  only  he  is  still  more  free  from 
'  partialism  '  (his  own  word)  in  his  aspirations  and  practical 
suggestions  with  respect  to  an  ultimate  '  Christian  synthesis.' 
He  so  far  adopts  Comte's  theory  as  to  speak  of  religion  it 
self  under  three  successive  aspects,  historically, —  i.  Thesis; 


MISCELLANEOUS  DOCUMENTS.       4/1 

2.  Antithesis ;  3.  Synthesis.  I  made  his  acquaintance  in  Eng 
land  ;  and  he  inspired  confidence  at  once  by  his  brave  inde 
pendence  (incomptis  capillis]  and  seif-zmconsciousness.  J.  J. 
Tayler's  address  of  last  month  follows  in  the  same  path,  —all 
in  favor  of  the  '  irenics,'  instead  of  polemics. 

"  The  answer  which  you  gave  me  so  fully  and  distinctly  to 
the  questions  I  proposed  for  your  consideration  was  of  value  in 
turning  to  my  view  certain  aspects  of  the  case  which  I  had  not 
before  observed.  I  had  begun  a  second  attack  on  your  patience, 
when  all  was  forgotten  in  the  news  of  the  day." 

LADY   BYRON   TO   H.    C.    R. 

"  BRIGHTON,  Dec.  25,  1854. 

"  With  J.  J.  Tayler,  though  almost  a  stranger  to  him,  I  have 
a  peculiar  reason  for  sympathizing.  A  book  of  his  was  a  treas 
ure  to  my  daughter  on  her  death-bed.* 

"  I  must  confess  to  intolerance  of  opinion  as,  to  these  two 
points, — eternal  evil  in  any  form,  and  (involved  in  it)  eternal 
suffering.  To  believe  in  these  would  take  away  my  God,  who 
is  all-loving.  With  a  God  with  whom  omnipotence  and  omni 
science  were  all,  evil  might  be  eternal ;  but  why  do  I  say  to  you 
what  has  been  better  said  elsewhere  ?  " 


LADY   BYRON   TO   H.    C.    R. 

"  BRIGHTON,  Jan.  31,  1855. 

.  .  .  "  The  great  difficulty  in  respect  to  '  The  Review '  t  seems 
to  be  to  settle  a  basis,  inclusive  and  exclusive ;  in  short,  a 
boundary  question.  From  what  you  said,  I  think  you  agreed 
with  me,  that  a  latitudinarian  Christianity  ought  to  be  the 
character  of  the  periodical ;  but  the  depth  of  the  roots  should 
correspond  with  the  width  of  the  branches  of  that  tree  of 
knowledge.  Of  some  of  those  minds  one  might  say,  '  They 

*  Probably  "  The  Christian  Aspects  of  Faith  and  Duty."    Mr.  Tayler  has 
also  written  "  A  Retrospect  of  the  Religious  Life  of  England." 
i  "The  National  Review." 


4/2  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 

have  no  root ; '  and  then,  the  richer  the  foliage,  the  more  danger 
that  the  trunk  will  fall.  '  Grounded  in  Christ '  has  to  me  a 
most  practical  significance  and  value.  I,  too,  have  anxiety 
about  a  friend  (Miss  Carpenter)  whose  life  is  of  public  im 
portance  :  she,  more  than  any  of  the  English  reformers,  un 
less  Nash  and  Wright,  has  found  the  art  of  drawing  out  the 
good  of  human  nature,  and  proving  its  existence.  She  makes 
these  discoveries  by  the  light  of  love.  I  hope  she  may  re 
cover,  from  to-day's  report.  The  object  of  a  Reformatory  in 
Leicester  has  just  been  secured  at  a  county  meeting.  .  .  . 
Now  the  desideratum  is  well-qualified  masters  and  mistresses. 
If  you  hear  of  such  by  chance,  pray  let  me  know.  The 
regular  schoolmaster  is  an  extinguisher.  Heart,  and  familiarity 
.with  the  class  to  be  educated,  are  all  important.  At  home 
and  abroad,  the  evidence  is  conclusive  on  that  point ;  for  I  have 
for  many  years  attended  to  such  experiments  in  various  parts 
of  Europe.  '  The  Irish  Quarterly '  has  taken  up  the  subject 
with  rather  more  zeal  than  judgment.  I  had  hoped  that  a 
sound  and  temperate  exposition  of  the  facts  might  form  an 
article  in  the  '  Might-have-been  Review.'  " 

LADY  BYRON   TO   H.    C.    R. 

"  BRIGHTON,  Feb.  12,  1855. 

"  I  have  at  last  earned  the  pleasure  of  writing  to  you  by 
having  settled  troublesome  matters  of  little  moment,  except 
locally  ;  and  I  gladly  take  a  wider  range  by  sympathizing  in 
your  interests.  There  is,  besides,  no  responsibility  —  for  me 
at  least — in  canvassing  the  merits  of  Russell  or  Palmerston, 
but  much  in  deciding  whether  the  '  village  politician  '  Jack 
son  or  Thompson  shall  be  leader  in  the  school  and  public- 
house. 

"  Has  not  the  nation  been  brought  to  a  conviction  that  the 
system  should  be  broken  up  ?  and  is  Lord  Palmerston,  who  has 
used  it  so  long  and  so  cleverly,  likely  to  promote  that  object  ? 

"  But,  whatever  obstacles  there  may  be  in  state  affairs,  that 
general  persuasion  must  modify  other  departments  of  action 
and  knowledge.  *  Unroasted  coffee  '  will  no  longer  be  acceptec 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  4/3 

under  the  official  seal, — another  reason  for  a  new  literary 
combination  for  distinct  special  objects,  a  review  in  which 
every  separate  article  should  be  convergent.  If,  instead  of  the 
problem  to  make  a  circle  pass  through  three  given  points,  it 
were  required  to  find  the  centre  from  which  to  describe  a  circle 
through  any  three  articles  in  the  '  Edinburgh '  or  '  Westminster 
Review,'  who  would  accomplish  it  ?  Much  force  is  lost  for  want 
of  this  one-mindedness  amongst  the  contributors.  It  would 
not  exclude  variety  or  freedom  in  the  unlimited  discussion  of 
means  towards  the  ends  unequivocally  recognized.  If  St. 
Paul  had  edited  a  review,  he  might  have  admitted  Peter  as  well 
as  Luke  or  Barnabas.  .  .  . 

"  Ross  gave  us  an  excellent  sermon,  yesterday,  on  '  Hallow 
ing  Hie  Name.'  Though  far  from  commonplace,  it  might  have 
been  delivered  in  any  church. 

"  We  have  had  Fanny  Kemble  here  last  week.  I  only  heard 
her  '  Romeo  and  Juliet,"  —  not  less  instructive,  as  her  readings 
always  are,  than  exciting ;  for  in  her  glass  Shakspeare  is  a 
philosopher.  I  know  her,  and  honor  her  for  her  truthfulness 
amidst  all  trials." 

LADY   BYRON   TO    H.   C.    R. 

"  BRIGHTON,  March  5,  1855. 

"  I  recollect  only  those  passages  of  Dr.  Kennedy's  book 
wh;"u  bear  upon  the  opinions  of  Lord  Byron.  Strange  as  it 
may  seem,  Dr.  Kennedy  is  most  faithful  where  you  doubt  his 
being  so.  Not  merely  from  casual  expressions,  but  from  the 
wa'1:  tenor  of  Lord  Byron's  feelings,  I  could  not  but  conclude 
he  was  a  believer  in  the  inspiration  of  the  Bible,  and  had  the 
gloomiest  Calvinistic  tenets.  To  that  unhappy  view  of  the  re 
lation  of  the  creature  to  the  Creator,  I  have  always  ascribed  the 
misery  of  his  life.  ...  It  is  enough  for  me  to  remember,  that 
he  who  thinks  his  transgressions  beyond  forgiveness  (and  such 
w«s  nis  own  deepest  feeling)  has  righteousness  beyond  that  of 
the  self-satisfied  sinner,  or,  perhaps,  of  the  half-awakened.  It 
was  impossible  for  me  to  doubt,  that,  could  he  have  been  at  once 
asoured  of  pardon,  his  living  faith  in  a  moral  duty,  and  love  of 


4/4  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 

virtue  ('I  love  the  virtues  which  I  cannot  claim'),  would  have 
conquered  every  temptation.  Judge,  then,  how  I  must  hate 
the  creed  which  made  him  see  God  as  an  Avenger,  not  a 
Father  !  My  own  impressions  were  just  the  reverse,  but  could 
have  little  weight ;  and  it  was  in  vain  to  seek  to  turn  his 
thoughts  for  long  from  that  idee  fixe  with  which  he  connected 
his  physical  peculiarity  as  a  stamp.  Instead  of  being  made 
happier  by  any  apparent  good,  he  felt  convinced  that  every 
blessing  would  be  '  turned  into  a  curse  '  to  him.  Who,  pos 
sessed  by  such  ideas,  could  lead  a  life  of  love  and  service  to 
God  or  man  ?  They  must,  in  a  measure,  realize  themselves. 
'The  worst  of  it  is,  I  do  believe,'  he  said.  I,  like  all  con 
nected  with  him,  was  broken  against  the  rock  of  predestina 
tion.  I  may  be  pardoned  for  referring  to  his  frequent  expres 
sion  of  the  sentiment  that  I  was  only  sent  to  show  him  the 
happiness  he  was  forbidden  to  enjoy.  You  will  now  better 
understand  why  '  The  Deformed  Transformed '  is  too  painful 
to  me  for  discussion.  Since  writing  the  above,  I  have  read  Dr. 
Granville's  letter  on  the  Emperor  of  Russia,  some  passages  of 
which  seem  applicable  to  the  prepossession  I  have  described. 
I  will  not  mix  up  less  serious  matters  with  these,  which  forty 
years  have  not  made  less  than  present  still  to  me." 

LADY   BYRON   TO    H.  C.  R. 

-  •-•  "  BRIGHTON,  April  8,  1855. 

..."  The  book  which  has  interested  me  most,  lately,  is 
that  on  '  Mosarsm,'  translated  by  Miss  Goldsmid,  and  which  I 
read,  as  you  will  believe,  without  any  Christian  (unchristian?) 
prejudice.  The  missionaries  of  the  Unity  were  always,  from 
my  childhood,  regarded  by  me  as  in  that  sense  the  people  ;  and 
I  believe  they  were  true  to  that  mission,  though  blind,  intel 
lectually,  in  demanding  the  crucifixion.  The  present  aspect  of 
Jewish  opinions,  as  shown  in  that  book,  is  all  but  Christian. 
The  author  is  under  the  error  of  taking,  as  the  representatives 
of  Christianity,  the  Mystics,  Ascetics,  and  Quietists ;  and 
therefore  he  does  not  know  how  near  he  is  to  the  true  spirit  of 
the  gospel.  If  you  should  happen  to  see  Miss  Goldsmid,  pray 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  4/5 

tell  her  what  a  great  service  I  think  she  has  rendered  to  us 
soi-disants  Christians  in  translating  a  book  which  must  make  us 
sensible  of  the  little  we  have  done,  and  the  much  we  have  to 
do,  to  justify  our  preference  of  the  later  to  the  earlier  dispen 
sation."  .  .  . 

LADY  BYRON  TO   H.  C.  R. 

"BRIGHTON,  April  u,  1855. 

"  You  appear  to  have  more  definite  information  respecting 
'  The  Review  '  than  I  have  obtained.  ...  It  was  also  said  that 
'  The  Review  '  would,  in  fact,  be  '  The  Prospective '  amplified, 
—  not  satisfactory  to  me,  because  I  have  always  thought  that 
periodical  too  Unitarian,  in  the  sense  of  separating  itself  from 
other  Christian  churches,  if  not  by  a  high  wall,  at  least  by  a 
wire-gauze  fence.  Now,  separation  is  to  me  the  aipeoie.  The 
revelation  through  Nature  never  separates  :  it  is  the  revelation 
through  the  Book  which  separates.  Whewell  and  Brewster 
would  have  been  one,  had  they  not,  I  think,  equally  dimmed 
their  lamps  of  science  when  reading  their  Bibles.  As  long  as 
we  think  a  truth  better  for  being  shut  up  in  a  text,  we  are  not 
of  the  wide-world  religion,  which  is  to  include  all  in  one  fold  : 
for  that  text  will  not  be  accepted  by  the  followers  of  other 
books,  or  students  of  the  same  ;  and  separation  will  ensue.  The 
Christian  Scripture  should  be  dear  to  us,  not  as  the  charter  of 
a  few,  but  of  mankind ;  and  to  fashion  it  into  cages  is  to  deny 
its  ultimate  objects.  These  thoughts  hot,  like  the  roll  at  break 
fast,  where  your  letter  was  so  welcome  an  addition." 


THREE   DOMESTIC    POEMS   BY   LORD    BYRON. 

FARE  THEE  WELL. 

FARE  thee  well !  and  if  forever, 

Still  forever  fare  thee  well ! 
Even  though  unforgiving,  never 

'Gainst  thee  shall  my  heart  rebel. 


476  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 

Would  that  breast  were  bared  before  thee 
Where  thy  head  so  oft  hath  lain, 

While  that  placid  sleep  came  o'er  thee 
Which  thou  ne'er  canst  know  again  ! 

Would  that  breast,  by  thee  glanced  over, 
Every  inmost  thought  could  show  1 

Then  thou  wouldst  at  last  discover  * 
'Twas  not  well  to  spurn  it  so. 

Though  the  world  for  this  commend  thee, 
Though  it  smile  upon  the  blow, 

Even  its  praises  must  offend  thee, 
Founded  on  another's  woe. 

Though  my  many  faults  defaced  me, 
Could  no  other  arm  be  found, 

Than  the  one  which  once  embraced  me, 
To  inflict  a  cureless  wound  ? 

Yet,  oh  !  yet,  thyself  deceive  not : 
Love  may  sink  by  slow  decay ; 

But,  by  sudden  wrench,  believe  not 
Hearts  can  thus  be  torn  away  : 

Still  thine  own  its  life  retaineth  ; 

Still  must  mine,  though  bleeding,  beat ; 
And  the  undying  thought  which  paineth 

Is  —  that  we  no  more  may  meet. 

These  are  words  of  deeper  sorrow 
Than  the  wail  above  the  dead : 

Both  shall  live,  but  every  morrow 
Wake  us  from  a  widowed  bed. 

And  when  thou  wouldst  solace  gather, 
When  our  child's  first  accents  flow, 

Wilt  thou  teach  her  to  say  "  Father," 
Though  his  care  she  must  forego  ? 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  477 

When  her  little  hand  shall  press  thee, 

When  her  lip  to  thine  is  pressed, 
Think  of  him  whose  prayer  shall  bless  thee  ; 

Think  of  him  thy  love  had  blessed. 

Should  her  lineaments  resemble 

Those  thou  never  more  mayst  see, 
Then  thy  heart  will  softly  tremble 

With  a  pulse  yet  true  to  me. 

All  my  faults,  perchance,  thou  knowest ; 

All  my  madness  none  can  know  : 
All  my  hopes,  where'er  thou  goest, 

Wither ;  yet  with  thee  they  go. 

Every  feeling  hath  been  shaken  : 

Pride,  which  not  a  world  could  bow, 
Bows  to  thee,  by  thee  forsaken ; 

Even  my  soul  forsakes  me  now. 

But  'tis  done  :  all  words  are  idle ; 

Words  from  me  are  vainer  still ; 
But  the  thoughts  we  cannot  bridle 

Force  their  way  without  the  will. 

Fare  thee  well !  —  thus  disunited, 

Torn  from  every  nearer  tie, 
Seared  in  heart,  and  lone  and  blighted, 

More  than  this  I  scarce  can  die. 


A    SKETCH. 

BORN  in  the  garret,  in  the  kitchen  bred  ; 
Promoted  thence  to  deck  her  mistress'  head  ; 
Next  —  for  some  gracious  service  unexpressed, 
And  from  its  wages  only  to  be  guessed  — 
Raised  from  the  toilette  to  the  table,  where 
Her  wondering  betters  wait  behind  her  chair. 


478  MISCELLANEOUS   DOCUMENTS. 

>  With  eye  unmoved,  and  forehead  unabashed, 
She  dines  from  off  the  plate  she  lately  washed. 
Quick  with  the  tale,  and  ready  with  the  lie, 
The  genial  confidante  and  general  spy, 
Who  could,  ye  gods  !  her  next  employment  guess  ?  - 
An  only  infant's  earliest  governess  ! 
She  taught  the  child  to  read,  and  taught  so  well, 
That  she  herself,  by  teaching,  learned  to  spell. 
An  adept  next  in  penmanship  she  grows, 
As  many  a  nameless  slander  deftly  shows  : 
What  she  had  made  the  pupil  of  her  art, 
None  know  ;  but  that  high  soul  secured  the  heart, 
And  panted  for  the  truth  it  could  not  hear, 
With  longing  breast  and  undeluded  ear. 
Foiled  was  perversion  by  that  youthful  mind 
Which  flattery  fooled  not,  baseness  could  not  blind, 
Deceit  infect  not,  near  contagion  soil, 
Indulgence  weaken,  nor  example  spoil, 
Nor  mastered  science  tempt  her  to  look  down 
On  humbler  talents  with  a  pitying  frown, 
Nor  genius  swell,  nor  beauty  render  vain, 
Nor  envy  ruffle  to  retaliate  pain, 
Nor  fortune  change,  pride  raise,  nor  passion  bow, 
Nor  virtue  teach  austerity,  till  now. 
Serenely  purest  of  her  sex  that  live ; 
But  wanting  one  sweet  weakness,  — to  forgive ; 
Too  shocked  at  faults  her  soul  can  never  know, 
She  deems  that  all  could  be  like  her  below  : 
Foe  to  all  vice,  yet  hardly  Virtue's  friend ; 
For  Virtue  pardons  those  she  would  amend. 

But  to  the  theme,  now  laid  aside  too  long,  — 
The  baleful  burthen  of  this  honest  song. 
Though  all  her  former  functions  are  no  more, 
She  rules  the  circle  which  she  served  before. 
If  mothers  — none  know  why  —  before  her  quake  ; 
If  daughters  dread  her  for  the  mothers'  sake ; 
If  early  habits  —  those  false  links,  which  bind 
At  times  the  loftiest  to  the  meanest  mind  — 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  479 

Have  given  her  power  too  deeply  to  instil 

The  angry  essence  of  her  deadly  will ; 

If  like  a  snake  she  steal  within  your  walls 

Till  the  black  slime  betray  her  as  she  crawls ; 

If  like  a  viper  to  the  heart  she  wind, 

And  leave  the  venom  there  she  did  not  find,  — 

What  marvel  that  this  hag  of  hatred  works 

Eternal  evil  latent  as  she  lurks, 

To  make  a  Pandemonium  where  she  dwells, 

And  reign  the  Hecate  of  domestic  hells  ? 

Skilled  by  a  touch  to  deepen  scandal's  tints 

With  all  the  kind  mendacity  of  hints, 

While  mingling  truth  with  falsehood,  sneers  with  smiles, 

A  thread  of  candor  with  a  web  of  wiles  ; 

A  plain  blunt  show  of  briefly-spoken  seeming, 

To  hide  her  bloodless  heart's  soul-hardened  scheming ; 

A  lip  of  lies ;  a  face  formed  to  conceal, 

And,  without  feeling,  mock  at  all  who  feel ; 

With  a  vile  mask  the  Gorgon  would  disown  ; 

A  cheek  of  parchment,  and  an  eye  of  stone. 

Mark  how  the  channels  of  her  yellow  blood 

Ooze  to  her  skin,  and  stagnate  there  to  mud  ! 

Cased  like  the  centipede  in  saffron  mail, 

Or  darker  greenness  of  the  scorpion's  scale, 

( For  drawn  from  reptiles  only  may  we  trace 

Congenial  colors  in  that  soul  or  face,)  — 

Look  on  her  features  !  and  behold  her  mind 

As  in  a  mirror  of  itself  defined. 

Look  on  the  picture  !  deem  it  not  o'ercharged  ; 

There  is  no  trait  which  might  not  be  enlarged  : 

Yet  true  to  "  Nature's  journeymen,"  who  made 

This  monster  when  their  mistress  left  off  trade, 

This  female  dog-star  of  her  little  sky, 

Where  all  beneath  her  influence  droop  or  die. 

O  wretch  without  a  tear,  without  a  thought, 
Save  joy  above  the  ruin  thou  hast  wrought  1 


480  MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS. 

The  time  shall  come,  nor  long  remote,  when  thou 

Shalt  feel  far  more  than  thou  inflictest  now,  — 

Feel  for  thy  vile  self-loving  self  in  vain, 

And  turn  thee  howling  in  unpitied  pain. 

May  the  strong  curse  of  crushed  affections  light 

Back  on  thy  bosom  with  reflected  blight, 

And  make  thee,  in  thy  leprosy  of  mind, 

As  loathsome  to  thyself  as  to  mankind, 

Till  all  thy  self-thoughts  curdle  into  hate 

Black  as  thy  will  for  others  would  create  ; 

Till  thy  hard  heart  be  calcined  into  dust, 

And  thy  soul  welter  in  its  hideous  crust ! 

Oh,  may  thy  grave  be  sleepless  as  the  bed, 

The  widowed  couch  of  fire,  that  thou  hast  spread  ! 

Then,  when  thou  fain  wouldst  weary  Heaven  with  prayer, 

Look  on  thine  earthly  victims,  and  despair  ! 

Down  to  the  dust  !  and,  as  thou  rott'st  away, 

Even  worms  shall  perish  on  thy  poisonous  clay. 

But  for  the  love  I  bore,  and  still  must  bear, 

To  her  thy  malice  from  all  ties  would  tear, 

Thy  name,  thy  human  name,  to  every  eye 

The  climax  of  all  scorn,  should  hang  on  high, 

Exalted  o'er  thy  less  abhorred  compeers, 

And  festering  in  the  infamy  of  years. 


LINES 

ON   HEARING  THAT   LADY   BYRON  WAS  ILL. 

AND  thou  wert  sad,  yet  I  was  not  with  thee  ! 

And  thou  wert  sick,  and  yet  I  was  not  near  ! 
Methought  that  joy  and  health  alone  could  be 

Where  I  was  not,  and  pain  and  sorrow  here. 
And  is  it  thus  ?     It  is  as  I  foretold, 

And  shall  be  more  so  ;  for  the  mind  recoils 
Upon  itself,  and  the  wrecked  heart  lies  cold, 

While  heaviness  collects  the  shattered  spoils. 


MISCELLANEOUS    DOCUMENTS.  481 

It  is  not  in  the  storm  nor  in  the  strife 

We  feel  benumbed,  and  wish  to  be  no  more, 
But  in  the  after-silence  on  the  shore, 
When  all  is  lost  except  a  little  life. 
I  am  too  well  avenged  !     But  'twas  my  right : 

Whate'er  my  sins  might  be,  thou  wert  not  sent 
To  be  the  Nemesis  who  should  requite  ; 

Nor  did  Heaven  choose  so  near  an  instrument 
Mercy  is  for  the  merciful !  —  if  thou 
Hast  been  of  such,  'twill  be  accorded  now. 
Thy  nights  are  banished  from  the  realms  of  sleep ! 

Yes  !  they  may  flatter  thee ;  but  thou  shalt  feel 

A  hollow  agony  which  will  not  heal ; 
For  thou  art  pillowed  on  a  curse  too  deep  : 
Thou  hast  sown  in  my  sorrow,  and  must  reap 

The  bitter  harvest  in  a  woe  as  real ! 
I  have  had  many  foes,  but  none  like  thee ; 

For  'gainst  the  rest  myself  I  could  defend, 

And  be  avenged,  or  turn  them  into  friend : 
But  thou  in  safe  implacability 

Hadst  nought  to  dread,  in  thy  own  weakness  shielded ; 
And  in  my  love,  which  hath  but  too  much  yielded, 

And  spared,  for  thy  sake,  some  I  should  not  spare. 
And  thus  upon  the  world,  —  trust  in  thy  truth, 
And  the  wild  fame  of  my  ungoverned  youth, 

On  things  that  were  not  and  on  things  that  are,  — 
Even  upon  such  a  basis  hast  thou  built 
A  monument,  whose  cement  hath'been  guilt ! 
The  moral  Clytemnestra  of  thy  lord, 
And  hewed  down,  with  an  unsuspected  sword, 
Fame,  peace,  and  hope,  and  all  the  better  life, 

Which,  but  for  this  cold  treason  of  thy  heart, 
Might  still  have  risen  from  out  the  grave  of  strife, 

And  found  a  nobler  duty  than  to  part. 
But  of  thy  virtues  didst  thou  make  a  vice, 

Trafficking  with  them  in  a  purpose  cold, 

For  present  anger  and  for  future  gold, 
And  buying  others'  grief  at  any  price. 


482  MISCELLANEOUS   DOCUMENTS. 


And  thus,  once  entered  into  crooked  ways, 
The  early  truth,  which  was  thy  proper  praise, 
Did  not  still  walk  beside  thee,  but  at  times, 
And  with  a  breast  unknowing  its  own  crimes, 
Deceit,  averments  incompatible, 
Equivocations,  and  the  thoughts  which  dwell 

In  Janus-spirits ;  the  significant  eye 
Which  learns  to  lie  with  silence ;  the  pretext 
Of  prudence,  with  advantages  annexed ; 
The  acquiescence  in  all  things  which  tend, 
No  matter  how,  to  the  desired  end,  — 

All  found  a  place  in  thy  philosophy. 
The  means  were  worthy,  and  the  end  is  won  : 
I  would  not  do  by  thee  as  thou  hast  done  ! 


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